Brown Sauce - Flash House (Gods Candy Records)
Flash House are from London and play thrashy but articulate gutter punk. The Scandis and various bands from Australia and the American Midwest perfected this style in the early ’90s. They just weren’t as hirsute.
Sometimes you wonder why the English didn’t achieve more prominence in the trash-punk field while grunge was cutting a swathe, but they were buried under all that Britpop nonsense. Fuck me, I mean, Oasis were less a band than a series of Beatles songs masquerading as headlines. Flash House and their ilk are making up for lost time.
In these times of limited attention spans and information overload, every band needs a tagline. A way to be noticed. Flash House’s is: “Rock ’n’ roll dystopia. Fast songs played by slow minds”. It fits like a thumb in your bum.
“Brown Sauce” is briefer than a page three girl’s undies but its eight songs pack more punch than Ben Stokes on the piss. When vocalist-guitarist Crusty sings “Ain’t gonna make it to the other side” in “Die Alone” you’re inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt - unlike the UK courts when they finish with Stokes.
Lead track “Three Wise Monkeys” explodes with a payload of twin guitar rage and it doesn’t let up. “Touch of Evil” hovers near metal territory but a crunching bass-line and singalong chorus puts a Motorhead stamp on “No Solution”. Like a hooker parked in a No Standing zone, "Another Day" does the business in quick time.
The guitar-work is relentless with one - presumably the mononymous Mike because Crusty is singing - reeling off spiralling lead breaks that could peel paint. The engine room of Matt and Harry lock in and hang on for grim life. If you're a Poison Idea or early Turnbonegro fan, you'll stick to this like shit to a blanket.
The risk with this sort of music is that it can disappear up its own orifice with nowhere else to go so it's going to be a challenge for Flash House to take their sound somewhere different without diluting what they do. Enjoy it for what it is.
Excuse the parochialism, but put 'em on a bill with Melbourne's Grindhouse, Canberra's Veebees and Adelaide's Meatbeaters, then sit back and watch the carnage. Flash House and their beards would feel right at home.
Not sure if there are copies available online in any format other than digital but try your luck here where you can listen to the tracks. My CD review copy came with disc art replete with dick drawings. The next album needs to be called "Death To Ed Sheeran" and then we'll all be happy.