The USP here (well, not so USP, really) is that a certain Dave Grohl manned the buttons and switches behind the recording of this four-tracker, a release that precedes Rye Coalition’s forthcoming Curses album. The New Jersey five-piece are a capable rock outfit, dipping the occasional toe into cock-infested waters but doing so with enough tongue in cheek to ensure nobody thinks they’re riffing retrogressively ‘cause it’s all they’ve got to offer. Far from it: although it’s as devil-horned as anything Early Man or, say, Doomriders could muster, Chariots On Fire’s got a bucketload more swagger and sass.
‘Pussy Footin’’, for example, is like some amazing previously unreleased KISS-meets-AC/DC jam from another planet of absolute r‘n’r hedonism: it packs fret-fondling from another star into its already aching package alongside a healthy stuffing of simple, balls-out ‘n’ low-slung axe mangling. It’s dumb, but as much fun as sticking your little pinkie into the mains after first having it sucked by a bikini model.
Seemingly made for backwater American boozers and debauched frat parties right down to its shockingly Eighties, i.e. abysmal, pseudo-metal-cum-mystical cover art, Chariots On Fire is a don’t-take-it-seriously blast from the past with enough brains to know the future’s gonna be biting at its ass in no time at all: it’s retro, but you’d never tell it so to its face. Not that it’d matter: Rye Coalition quite apparently have talent enough to rock out however the heck they wanna, whenever they wanna. “Let’s set fire to the city!” they exclaim on ‘Burn The Masters’, “...’cause tonight’s alright, are you with me!?”
Oh hell yes.
7Mike Diver's Score