ROBERT JOHNSON & PUNCHDRUNKS

Click here to get your free text scroller.However relief is at hand in the shape of Robert Johnson and Punchdrunks. Why this guy isn't feted across the globe is a gross miscalculation on the part of alleged music fans. Robert is a visionary and an amazing guitar player. His cinematic electronica with shards of surf drags music into the 22nd century and one can only hope that folks will have the gumption to get on board. This was a triumphant performance and he banished the rock demons from next door into abject redundancy. If you haven't heard this guy then check him out now. Don't even read the rest of this now just go to his site. We aren't going anywhere, here's a passout * I'll wait here until you come back* Lindsey Hutton Next Big Thing Scotland June 2006" Fried On The Altar Of Good Taste" "Sputnik Monroe was a beloved show wrestler in Memphis in the sixties - "220 pounds of twisted steel and sex appeal" - and a son-of-a-gun to fight. He described himself as "scientifically raw" and his philosophy was to "win if you can, loose if you have to, allways cheat, and if you get count out never leave the ring without turning it into ruins". A little nonchalant Sputnik used to threat his opponents with the words "I'll jump in the air and shit in your hair".Of course it has to be guitarist Robert Johnson who writes a song dedicated to this stonehard icon, this rock 'n' roll-pugilisism's Liberace, this definite impersonation of the very attitude our cool guitarist has devoted his whole life to sharpen into blinding perfection. Robert is the only convincing rock 'n' roll heroe this country has seen since Stefan Ahlqvist. The only one that walks like he talks, the only one who seriously understands the image-value of a cigarette in the corner of the mouth. Now he has finally made a record that seriously stands up to that attitude.This is the only record with instrumental rockmusic that you'll need. You'll have to sneak away your Link Wray-records, of course, and maybe "Misirlou" with Dick Dale, but the rest you can throw away and never miss again. Here is everything, and more. Not often has such a joyful chock of brutal, scientifically raw music been produced in the name of post-modernism. James Bond meets Henry Mancini, Skatelites meets Suicide, jazz meets dub, synths are rockin', surfmusic is talking jiddisch, light meets darkness, electric guitars are having sex. Even if this record is leaning heavily on the collective force of the trio and on the bob hund-members liberal production, odd ideas and enormous dynamics built into the sound, most of all this is Robert Johnson’s record.The world is full of skillful guitarists who can do really quick things with their fingers, but there is hell not many guitarists who are taking their responsibility to deliver something out of the speakers that will shake us up. Someone like Sputnik or John Lee Hooker who will take to any trick to entertain us. Someone who will use vulgarities, simple infamities and supercool sounds. Most of them are too refined to do that. But not Robert. He delivers. "Sputnik Monroe", Bo Diddley via The Cramps with Thomas Öberg (bob hund) on the slippery bongo-drums, is of course the openingtrack. And that with a careless, noisy illwilled attack that will knock you up against the wall, like you were glued with silvery gaffatape. And when you fall down after 1 minute and 47 seconds you’ll beg for more. Play this record on the next party and wish that someone else is the owner of the flat. People will throw their clothes, blast the loudspeakers, pour beer all over one eachother and make squint-eyed babies until the morning comes. Just in front of the rattling loud-speakers, with the repeat button on. You are warned."Quated and translated from Lennart Persson/Bibel magazine March 2000