Melody Lane

Sometimes you are surprised when you listen to a new band. I've never heard about Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats before. I expected from this Cambridge based band nothing more than classic British guitar music. From the start of the record I felt like years back in time when bands like Black Sabbath was played. These four guys also reveal themselves on the topical album The Night Creeper as a magician who conjure one or other catchy tune by monotonous repeating of the melodic sombre reef which cite the doom of the seventy-year-olds with pleasure. The weight-bearing basic riff are varied in the course of the rather long songs marginal, but to let arise just enough, in order no boredom, sometimes the bass breaks out, sometimes a guitar plays solo in the background. The amazing is present that one reaches an extremely high recognition value already thus without succinct song. Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats means steadily flow without evident outbreaks of violence, but under the surface it ferments gloomily and menacingly. But while a lot of bands walk to the cemetery at night when the crypt is open, the Uncle rather turn to the stoned hippies who dance between the gravestones.