Uncle Acid Is Back Again

Autumn and spring it the regular time for bands to promote their newest albums. So it was with Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats. I saw them a last week in a small club where the most artists have a background in the punk/new wave era. I knew their latest record and got into the gig for a very small money and didn't expected very much than a good evening. What I got was a concert that brought me back to the psychedelic and hard rock era when bands like Black Sabbath ruled the scene. Heavy guitars over a doom sound with a singer that is more to melodic rock than to this heavy sound. They built a wall of heavy sound in front of the audience to slip into slow, psychedelic improvisations. And the sound almost blew me away. Massive, direct very own they gave the audience a feeling being back in times. It is surely not the kind of music I listen often at home but it was the sound for a really good live concert. Even the slow song have a lot of psychedelic magic.

Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats - Slow Death
Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats - Yellow Moon
Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats - Waiting For Blood

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.