Monday, 25 April 2016

The Cavemen (NZ)

Review for Heatwave Magazine
Label: Dirty Water Records - Release: 25 April 2016

Bloody hell, these Auckland kids come with a bang! Listening to their debut self-titled album is like being in my own pit, surrounded by savage ghosts from former gigs. I can almost smell the sex, drugs and rock n roll infused sweat and the rotten beer on the floor.

The Cavemen couldn’t have chosen a better name. Paul Caveman with his deranged vocals, Jack Caveman with a possessed guitar, with bassist Nick Caveman and drummer Jake Caveman maniacally setting the beat. The Cavemen are so bestial and ferocious. Their fresh meat pulsates through every vein and gashes lively blood through every pore of straight trash lo-fi garage punk. They don’t give a damn! They pick up their instruments and just rage away.


While their sound has many great influences – the Gun Club, the Sonics, the Cramps, the Stooges, the Gories, Flat Duo Jets, and even Dead Moon, it is their own sound. Their sound is brought mainly through their raving attitude. They describe their sound as being “pure, wild rock n roll. It’s for the lonesome, the outcast, the degenerates of society. It’s Elvis being played by drunks and cretins. It’s four guys who know four chords, busting out face melting tunes.” And who am I to disagree?

The Cavemen’s wailing and shouting a few weeks back at the Unicorn in Camden, reminded me of those dark lit-den gigs from my teen years – same riffs, same drums, same hardcore rage. Perfect to let our frustrations out there in the pogo rumble, throw away any possible inhibitions that none of us had anyway, and freely lose it.

Along with the rest of the audience, I was completely blown away with their 101-wicked-madness performance. Not a goddamn care in this rancid world! They’re wild rabid animals, they are caveman-mad!

The Cavemen are definitely a live band, so make sure you see them next time they’re around. That doesn’t mean, however, you should disregard their debut album. Quite the contrary. For whenever you need to vent out you’ll be running to your shelves to pick it up and let it blast whatever mundane stupidification that is troubling you at that moment out of your system. We all need more of these feral albums in our shelves and ourselves. Desperately, actually. After all, we all descend from cavemen.

Cheers, me hearties, and don’t forget to hug the music.
Penelope York


The Cavemen

Heatwave Magazine

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