It only seems like yesterday, but it was 22 years ago this year that The Wildhearts released an album called “Riff After Riff After Motherfucking Riff”.
Fast forward to 2024. From the depths of Italy come The Clamps (ok Bergamo is probably lovely) seemingly intending to take that title and drag it by its pubes into the new era.
For 35 minutes and about a million slabs of guitar, “Megamouth” rocks out, and probably with its cock out while it’s about it.
The title track is a jam to start. You can imagine them playing it, hair swinging, beer flowing, sweat running down the walls. It’s a marvellous thing. Topped off by the thought that the drummer seems pissed off with his kit and intent on beating the life out of it.
When they do start singing (and I use the term loosely) it’s sloganeering of the best kind, “Forty-Nine” has a guitar solo that would make Motorhead jealous, and this being so close to the anniversary of Lemmy’s death, it is excellent to see the flame being kept alive.
But this is fuzzier than anything Phil Campbell did. Nothing has sounded this fast ‘n’ fuzzy since The Hellacopters’ first record, to be honest.
“Freedom To Run (Down)” is utterly unashamed, “Bill Jenkins” gets in its stock car and races about, and why not? Fast and the Furious? Something like that.
“Blood” manages to pack more fun in 180 seconds than most albums manage in full, another instrumental “CuboMedusa” cheerfully steals a riff from Pepper Keenan (and I’m imagining his wallet too, given half a sniff), “Roll Back The Years” is almost prog at four minutes, and it doesn’t really matter that you’ve no real idea what they are singing about, it’s all about a feeling after all – and this feels dirty. My god, a trip to the clinic is in order afterwards.
“Raze The Land” slows the pace. Don’t worry. It is not a ballad, that’d never do, it just decides to do some primal blues.
“Bombs” is an absolute beauty. It explodes (appropriately) into a wall of sound, and “Slippin’ Away” is a screeching anthem of more of the same.
“Megamouth” is basically the same song played ten times (twice without lyrics) but so what if that damn song verges on genius to start with?
The best record Fu Manchu never wrote? Possibly. “Megamouth” is everything rock n roll should be.
Rating 9/10
