Review of Kasms album Spayed released through Trouble Records.
Whilst Kasms are undoubtedly swaying about under the weight of their own influences, journalists, bloggers and general gobshites up and down the M1 are swaying under the pressure of trying to talk about Kasms without mentioning said (blindingly obvious) influences and reference points. Now, I don't particularly want to force feed the already-weighty albatross around Kasms' neck. Albatross foie gras would, after all, be a culinary step too far. But you know, it's probably worth mentioning that this band sounds rather a lot like Siouxsie & The Banshees. A teensy bit like Gin Palace. A smidgen like Made Out Babies and there's more than a dash of Babes In Toyland and early Hole in there. Sorry. But there is. Oh, and a bit of B52s. Sorry, I missed that one, briefly.
Good news if you like those bands. Not so great if you don't.
Still, having made a rather pertinent rod for their own collective back, Kasms proceed to spew up some pretty neat sludge punk, calling on insect paranoia, death and disease to fuel the furnace. Rachel and Gemma's caterwauling is delightfully unhinged. They've been accused of being rich kid phoneys but the jury's out on that one, right now: frankly, I'm not sure that any amount of trust fund persuasion can dredge up a vocal coach that will get those kind of results. The slack-as-fuck guitar, teamed with drumming that slips from 'coma' to 'epileptic episode' with frightening regularity do little to tame the whole affair.
They might well be wearing their influences in their cleavage, but actually, Kasms have too much depth to them to fit into the 'new goth' box that some folks are trying to cram them into. This is turgid, scowling rock music, done well, by a bunch of people that are probably sick of having their own record collections thrown back in their faces.