REVIEWS
Mojo Magazine (December 06)
. 
The Surgens “Songs of Sadness, Misery and Abuse” (8 out of 10).
Fasten your seatbelt for a rollercoaster ride of gutbucket twisted R’n’B.
The most surprising thing about this elemental slab of countrified rhythm and blooze is that the Surgens hail from the deep south of England but are steeped in hoodoo gumbo rockabilly sleaziness to an nth degree. Wearing their influences on their sleeves they nevertheless manage to conjure up a vital sounding set of mainly self penned songs that never fall into the revivalist or tribute band trap. A six piece band with a full bodied guitar sound augmented at times by lap steel, washboard, musical saw and vocals that at times recall David Thomas of Pere Ubu’s intensity they roar and prowl all over the blueprint drawn up by the likes of The Cramps, Thee Headcoats and Tav Falco.
There’s barely a duff track here, opener “Twisted Brain” is a testosterone fuelled Cramps like bloodfest, “my baby’s got a twisted brain, I found it hanging in a train, I put it in a bottle next to the others, I think I might be losing my way.” Dumb lyrics but the visceral delivery runs away with any litcrit notions. Next song “Mean Cheatin’ Man” continues in the same vein but the band stretches out and their command of dynamics is evident here with passages that lower the attack but retain an inherent menace. The album ends with their best song, “Drunken Angel,” a hymn to booze, dope and music that swaggers along in a fashion akin to Alex Harvey in his more burlesque moments, a debauched tango that closes what is an extremely handsome disc.
Americana Uk
The Sound Of The Surgens - Demo
THE SURGENS - From the box of demos rejected by others at ResonanceFM.
A blues thing demanding to be taken to it’s hanging ground, a
kind of White Stripes for Captain Beefheart fans who like their
country blues a little twisted and scuffed around the edges (and theramins
or maybe steel guitars and mouth organs) and afflictions that represent
the evil things they used to be. Their pappies carry two shot
guns each and they look like the folk out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre,
and someone is crying in their cell and pulling the strings... Yep,
that’s
them below. They sure don’t sound like they’re from Peterborough,
they sure do sound like they should be on a soundtrack for
a Tarentino movie
Organ
Magazine
The Sound Of The Surgens -Demo
The second CD I’ve received of these chaps showeth The Surgens stitching things up good and proper, forsooth and for fucks sake! Recorded at London’s Gizzard studios this sounds so gritty it seems our surgical shamans brought all the mojo from the aeons to the sessions - stomping boot-heel bacchanalia from Old West saloons, teeth from a thousand town centre tournees and bones from old blues heroes - to help ‘em summon up then spit out grit n’ gravel encrusted, scabrous, scalpel lacerating voodoo vignettes churning on Rio Grande guitar swill, tobacco spittin’ lasso-artist sardonic slide, clanking like Knights Templar in full charge centred by liquid loose vocals like Pere Ubu’s David Thomas wearing a cowboy hat from a thrift store that someone found in an old 50’s Cadillac...was some country singers or other. ‘John Hardy’ is a Nick Cave salty soul suit splitter, rampant testifying raking over the coals of hell, fervent grave-gaunt gospel pillage, a page torn from an old songbook that died with Leadbelly. This opener is merely a taster of their bellicose, bibulous and bilious blues. When ‘Twisted Brain’ (recently played on Jonathan Ross’ Radio Two show, no less!) kicks in it’s almost eviscerating, dragging you down into the swirling depths of all those dark places with the force of a sinking Mississippi steamer.
As on the equally excellent ‘Lodge Recordings’, there’s a splash of crazy ass country chooglin’ - ‘Death Of A Politician’ - that makes gravy spontaneously erupt down your chin over your Sunday suit. But if you imagine this is some comedic pastiche, sip on the sweetly haunting Dias De Los Muertos sorrowful cowboy swoon of ‘Drunken Angel’ with its splendidly languid fevered barrio riot chorus and ride the epic Caligula sized genetically gonzoid backwoods genome gangbang that is ‘Hank and the Blue Legged Dog’, the strangest lament you’ll ever hear, like the house band on that Mississippi steamer drinking on the Devils tab. Without castration by categorisation it’s like our very own Legendary Shack*Shakers, and they deserve to be signed, sealed and, yuss, stitched up with surgical precision.
Stu Gibson - www.sleazegrinder.com
The Lodge Recordings - Demo "Fear And Whiskey"
If The Mekons' above titled record is so revered as bullhorn betwixt the buttocks warped country canoodlings, then these guys should slip ever so comfortably into similar shoes. Delightfully skewed as perhaps only a band from the old naval seaport of Portsmouth could be, as they sound like the ghosts of old sea lags who've supped up the dregs of hundreds of years of armadas and asses, corsairs and corsets, collecting scabrous tales in their weathered sails and spitting them out in the form of some seriously soaked to the bone CountryRockin' gumbo.
Shattered glass, dt inducing, tequila tortured country trash is the real alt.country...opener 'John Hardy' is early Nick Cave looking shocked and scared at finding out that Seattle noisefucks Federation X have surreptitiously replaced The Bad Seeds while he's been nodding out, 'Big Fat Calf' is as joyous a song as I've heard for a long fucking time, starting off with an almost Doors like slide and strung together on huge sickly slithers of slug-trail spittle into the most shiteating chorus I've heard since the Ribeye Bros. and would make a pigsqueal and slice bacon at a stare. (Incidentally, if you like the Ribeye's awesome 'If I Had A Horse I'd Buy It Oats And Fuck It' record then contact these chaps. Forthwith).
Eddie Spaghetti listen up. It also features, fantastically, tho a bit low in the mix, some bowed saw. Always a treat. 'Reefer Madness' as it's very title implies, is a sprightly tippy toed trip-eyed instrumental tune where vocalist Hanky Dog (I think!) has taken some time off to try and truss up some girl in knots to a cactus plant for some cowboy canoodling and is going mad in the process as he's forgotten his navy knots. So we are treat instead to some superslinky surfbilly guitar twang. But it's okay as he reappears for closer 'Puppet Whore', a twisting tale of turbulence that takes the seat outta your pants and slaps your ass in a manner that'd make de Sade dance a samba. Hits me like Pere Ubu (who's voice the singist Surgen sort of reminds me of) jamming with the Magic Band conducted by Tom Waits. Apparently they're currently in the studio. Someone call 'em up, collect a signature and pay for it!
Stu Gibson - www.sleazegrinder.com
The Lodge Recordings - Demo
BLUES MATTERS Issue 25 UK - THE SURGENS: The Lodge Recordings Independent Release. 4 tracks (EP). 18.19 mins. "A four track EP from another band receiving a lot of love from our man Joe Cushley, and clearly not without reason. Song titles like 'Big Fat Calf' and 'Reefer Madness' had me worrying I hadjust received the latest Goldie Look Chain effort, thankfully not! Operating (come on I couldn't resist!!) out of Peterborough, this band are clearly not lacking in the humour and charm departments but what surprised me most, about this bands brand of warped countrified blues, was the strength of the tunes… safe in these Surgen's hands (c'mon!); each song has been scrupulously crafted to the point where another trip to theatre is… ok I'm going……"
Darren Howells
Assistant Manager/Editor (inc. Magazine Design & Advertising)
Blues Matters! www.bluesmatters.com