Diemonds - 'The Bad Pack' (Underground Operations) Print E-mail
CD Reviews
Written by Gaz E   
Tuesday, 11 December 2012 03:00

diemonds bad pack"...and what can I say, I come from race cars and cock rock..."


Okay, so the words may have been penned by Bradley Walker III but the sentiment remains: it was the cock rock that got me started on this musical crusade. It seems, however, that the mere mention of this particular sub-genre of rock is expected to be accompanied by an acute sense of embarrassment, people forgetting that it was the quality of certain bands and songs that did for this outrageous offshoot - quite simply, done well the cock rock still rises to attention.


...and that's exactly where a band like Diemonds gatecrashes the pity party.


So many modern bands trying - and failing, miserably - to tap into the spirit of proper sleazy rock 'n' roll get it so wrong: crappy heavy metal guitars hanging just under their armpits, fingers a blur of widdling fret-wankery....but as long as the lyrics contain some kind of retarded sexual innuendo they think they're rocking out with their cock out. Correction - they are simply cocks.


Diemonds get it right, so fucking right in fact, but still manage to slap their own twist on things.


That twist pretty much revolves around frontwoman Priya Panda, a foul-mouthed rock vixen who it's hard not to fantasise about almost as soon as you set eyes on her....and that's before she has even opened her mouth.....easy tiger.


With their guitars slung low and the '80s given a right royal kick up the ass musically - think classic Ratt or Crue fused to the sound of The Donnas - Diemonds have produced a (long-awaited) debut full length album that bites in all the right places, and has that middle-finger-in-the-air attitude that so many bands diluted for commercial success by way of the dreaded power ballad - no such shite here, thankfully. Priya, striking out at the head of this ten-legged, too-cool-for-school rock 'n' roll collective, is blessed with the attitude of ten wannabe rock god frontmen; check out the band's new 'Smoke Beer, Drink Weed, Eat Pussy' t-shirt for further proof. Better still buy this new album, 'The Bad Pack', and let yourself go with it and its dark, trashy take on great '80s rock.


It's over three years since I reviewed the Canadian band's self-released seven track EP 'In The Rough' and, as impressed as I was by that slice of ass-kicking R'n'R, 'The Bad Pack' takes all the cool shit that the band has in its locker and turns it up to 11.


'Take On The Night' kicks this ten track tour de force off, an anthemic stab of a song, polished production-wise but dirty where it has to be, qualities dragged into next song, 'Lil Miss', a gutter-dirty affair that motors to its conclusion high on the fumes - "words speak volumes, but so does a fist."


'Loud n' Nasty' brings out the Smashed Gladys come chorus time - always a good thing - before the Diemonds anthem proper hits the speakers: 'Get The Fuck Outta Here', owner of a shock rock music video both outrageous and awesome, opens in a fashion so timeless in a classic rock 'n' roll sense that you just can't resist the chance to, firstly, air drum, then to crack out the air guitar; the terrace chant of a chorus checks every box on this wretched winner of a track.


The album's title track hangs on an epic lyric, "the underworld reigns supreme, I'm living proof of it," as this most cocksure of cock rock throwbacks power through tune after great friggin' tune. 'Overboard' is a threat to the neighbourhood just like Johnny Crash, before 'Left For Dead', dark of lyric and heavy of groove, smacks your stereo upside the head with a massive, yet scaled-back, hook.


'Livin Tonight' is another tune that echoes the cream of the Skid Row back catalogue - when they had a good frontman, of course - while 'Trick Or Treat' has a splash of KISS about it, possibly due to the "I want a little piece of candy" hook and its obvious sexual connotations. The album closes, all too soon it has to be said, with 'Mystery', a bass-led beast that thrusts the end of the record in your face whether you like it or not.


With the exception of those pesky Scandinavians who never truly let the cock of their rock go soft, Diemonds have produced one of the finest examples of how to take a tired genre and shake it the fuck up. 'The Bad Pack', at times, sounds like it could have been released on Leathur Records, that sleazy, cool-as-fuck vibe all over it like a dirty rash.


Diemonds might well have more than a foot in a bygone decade - 'The Bad Pack' is available on cassette in their online store, for fuck's sake! - but they have dragged all the best bits of a dying breed out of the glam-tinged grave, and formed a Bad Pack, a tightly wound fist of a band, that will kick the teeth out of your stereo (cassette deck!) given half the chance.


Buy it...or get the fuck outta here.

approved image lrg 2012 



To pick up your copy of 'The Bad Pack' - CLICK HERE