First published by Soundsphere Magazine, http://www.soundspheremag.com/reviews/54-cd/2040-cd-review-devilish-presley-the-dark-triad April 2011
Pyschobilly? Glam? Metal? Rockabilly? Punk? Goth, even? All labels attached, at various times, to non-conformist horror-show duo, Devilish Presley. Certainly, a huge wodge of justification for the aforementioned adjectives exists, given their preceding four albums have encompassed elements of all these genres. And you can be sure of an equal distribution of quiffs, long-hair and big, black, back-combed barnets at a Devilish Presley show. Yeah, it’s rock ‘n’ roll, Jim, but not as we know it…
Returning, unashamed, unabashed and as in your face as ever, with their fifth album, the Devilish ones might just have released their best work so far.
There’ve been a couple of changes, though, as the accompanying press release makes clear. Namely, lead vocals are now the responsibility of Jacqui Vixen while Johnny Navarro has assumed a more background role.
As for the album, well, here’s what Johnny himself has to say about it: “The ‘Dark Triad’ of the title refers to three personality disorders; Narcissism, Machiavellianism and Psychopathy. They could describe some musicians and artists but I’m not gonna say who! The monsters we sing about are of the self-made variety.”
Lead-off single, The Beast Must Die, announces the Devilish return in fine form with a vintage wam-bam, Glam-ma’am intro. A big, cavernous-sounding shuffle on the toms, and gang-vocals on the chorus, take the listener to a twisted, parallel universe where Alvin Stardust and Marc Bolan worship Satan and sacrifice small children. A dollar gets you ten it’ll last for ten minutes when played live, as the audience sings along with gusto, ad infinitum. It’s that kind of track.
Happy As Saturday will have The Ramones sulking furiously as the hey-ho-let’s-go vibe erupts into a frenzy of classic punk motifs. And in finest punk form, it’s here and gone before you know it. Fast, spiky, lean and mean, prepare to pogo ‘til you drop, mofos.
Jacqui Vixen occupies the whole of the spotlight on Dancefloor Ghosts, an ambient, Goth-like trance that morphs into a barking, growling chorus, complete with buzz-saw guitars. And if The Ramones were sulking, this will have Andrew Eldritch penning his retirement announcement before the second verse is over.
Any band that titles one of their songs, Zurich Psychological Club, deserves your utmost respect and Vixen screams and shrieks here with macabre glee. If your parties lean toward the anarchic and riotous, as they should, then this is the soundtrack for you.
An obvious feature of the album is the economy of the writing. Each song is a bullet-sized blast that does its job and then gets the hell out of Dodge. An instant attack to the guts, groin and ears that leaves no time for boredom. No forty-eight bar fret-board fiddles, no choruses repeated ad nauseam and padding is entirely non-existent.
It’s lean, stripped-down and amphetamine-fuelled and it reeks of stale beer, bad drugs and psychosis. Nightmares, razor blades and madness have never been such fun…