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Sunday, 26 June 2022

Team Player: the Reviews are Coming In

 


Red Rock Magazine @redrockmagazine "We all know the energy that goes behind a Nine o’clock Nasty song. It’s loud, boisterous and in your face. It’s unapologetic and full of unrelenting pizzazz. This song encapsulates all that is great about Nine o’clock Nasty. This song in particular feels as if its written just for the outsiders of this world. Those of us that have long felt misunderstood by mainstream society. This song is cathartic in a way as it gives the energy and message telling us its ok to just be ourselves. Nine o’clock Nasty is here to stand high atop the mountain waving the freak flag for us."

Plastic Magazine @plasticmgzn "9 o’clock Nasty are an alternative rock outfit that takes a side-eyed look at the world and punishes it with their driving beats and mild sarcasm. With their trademark sound of gritty guitar work, energising rhythms and often tongue-in-cheek lyricism, they’ve carved out a reputation as an exciting UK rock band offering a new sound.... a razor-sharp and punching sound, on their most recent single they deliver a swaggering rock cut with tinges of old school hip hop in it’s vocal delivery and sonic aesthetic."

Indie O'Clock @indieoclock "Before their sound was full on and chaotic, for this one they did something more experimental, technically speaking, they are making a style of punk that we can say is neo punk, they are the new voice of the genre and represent very well a fresh movement. In fact, they represent rock as a whole very well.... It takes us to the '80s amid frantic guitar riffs and constant beats. They make us electrify with the live sound of the guitar. The vocal is solid, striking, makes us vibrate, connects us to the idea of the guitar. Psychedelic and punk, comes close to the end and increases the atmosphere."

Ace of Swords @ace_of_swords.co "uncompromising, full of character and with a message that gets in your face for a couple of minutes and then makes room for whatever comes next."

Headbangers News @headbangersnews_br "9 o'clock Nasty continue to explode our speakers with their wonderful and strange releases. Never satisfied the band continues to release another work ... in a short period of time. The group works hard and loves what they do."

Rock Era @rockeramag "the song starts with a powerful, in-your-face intro, with a cool horn sound in the back with a sick beat and an elaborate, vibrant guitar line. The music takes you to unexpected places and unusual approaches in vocals and interpretation as if they broke free from their comfort zone."

Pigeon Opinion @pigeon_opinion "After running the underground with a brilliantly cartoony hook on the hit "Darker Star", 9' O Clock Nasty return with hard post punk, alternative garage and stoner rock riffs on "Team Player"! This incredibly charismatic tune brings the noise and playful melodies typical of britpop while the electrifying solos demonstrate an incredible symbiotic synergy - proving this group really plays as a team - especially the drummer who carries the single with extraordinary infectious drums! "Team Player" guarantees to be satirical and ironic and once again the chorus really shines by being superbly catchy and addictive! Also of note are innovative artsy lo-fi ideas involving reverb and challenging motifs to the listener. Quirky and punky - another big W for this promising underground group!"

FV Music Blog @fvmusicblog "The brilliant band 9 O’CLOCK NASTY are back with their best single yet. ‘Team Player’ is in equal parts addictive and compelling. Complete with wonderful vocal performance and a stoic beat, it is a song that could be the breakthrough single for this Leicester-based band."

Info Music @info_music_fr "An ease to launch, an ability to impose, 9 o'clock Nasty is a delightful surprise that makes a beautiful entry in our section and settles as the surprise that we recommend you to discover as soon as possible."

Rising Stars @risingartists.musicblog “Team Player is an instant in your face track that takes you back in time, the nostalgic track is very garage, punk, with some heaviness. ...This is an endless track that you will not be able to stop playing, while it’s on repeat you’re going to rage your little heart out and after you’re done with that track you’re going to move on to the next one from 9 o’clock Nasty. They make music that is so hard to not be completely obsessed with. The trio never disappoints."

Roadie Music @roadiemusicmag "With a beat totally influenced by funk, it follows a line full of swing with a slow bass, with a lot of groove, already showing the stripped air there. The guitars enter discreetly, but as they take shape, they emphasise the weight of the song. All with vocal lines that are between the sung and the recited, gaining influences from rap, reminding us immediately of the Beastie Boys. ... one of the most differentiated songs they've released, showing versatility and daring."

Sinusoidal @sinusoidal.music "So the question is never what 9 o’clock Nasty have in store for us next. It’s what is not, and most things aren’t off the table. Can it be about raccoons playing cards? About a tennis player/Christian madman? These guys have the Midas touch, if that means everything they touch turns to golden beer. "

Mangowave @mangowavereviews "This is the song for those who would rather saw off their left foot than participating in their company's annual staff outing at the climbing garden.... With sharp bends, the guitar decorates the main riff. Those are not sounds of evading obstacles. These bends help you to take a run-up and knock the obstacles over. Who is getting in your way? Right, noone and nothing!"

Other Side Reviews @theothersidereviews "Constantly evolving, 9 o’clock Nasty once again highlights their sophisticated obscurity in ‘Team Player’. Charismatic vocals pour forth from the analogue arrangement proving that you don’t need fancy stuff to make a mark on listeners. As I said, they can have pinpricks of light swirling about your head…but you’ll love the feeling. ‘Team Player’ does not slither into your cranium, but rather grabs your guts, squeezes and leaves you breathless with goosebumps all over your body."

Motion News @motionnews.it "I forced myself to listen to Team Player after overcoming the mental pain caused by not being able to review Darker Star. Like Boris Johnson, I adore every song by this band, and I never know what to anticipate from them next. Their songs don’t aspire to higher creative standards or seek for deeper meaning like a bad trio would. It is 9:00. Nasty are merely enjoying themselves. Team Player starts off with a punch before doing what 9 o’clock Nasty does best, which is diving into rock. Strong drums and a bass tone that would make Les Claypool’s pants flutter. Additionally, Sydd, Pete, and Ted give a chorus performance that Frank Black would pay millions of dollars for."

Biography Web   @biography.web The Leicester trio—the ruthless, enigmatic, dangerous, and dark-eyed beings of irony and satire—are back to face their demons while still debating the fundamental essence of humanity.

KIMU @KARLISMYUNKLE "Team Player expands with textured production and a strong Brit-rock delivery that we have come to love from 9 o’clock Nasty to tell the story of the leaders and gatherers of society ... an exercise in indie precision that drives a sharp spike into the spine.”

We Are MX @yourmusicexperience "a gritty, opaque groovy banger"

Edgar Allan Poets @edgarallanpoets  "It goes without saying that such a creatively productive band must have a lot of influences. It is precisely because of their great open-mindedness that 9 o’clock Nasty does not know what the word boredom means. The creativity they put into the lyrics, the musical arrangements, and the presentation of their musical idea to the world are superb. This is pure passion. The desire of these guys to make their artistic message known to the masses makes them forget all the work they are doing to spread their vision. They write well, have innovative ideas, and above all it’s a band that has something to say."

Dark Strudel @dark_strudel "After the wide panoramic boisterous sweeps of their last releases, the restless and violent 9 o’clock Nasty are back. Team Player hits you in the first beat. A vicious gut-punch. It keeps striking again and again. Relentless verses build up to a rabble-rousing chorus. This is music for when it is all too much, and you need to turn and face the oppressor. Music to build barricades to. Music to stand shoulder to shoulder and shout to the sky. When the restless stop and stand in one place. When they focus and strike, take notice."

Less Than 1000 Followers @jpgchief "Like a dark gargoyle of the night, the mean raccoons are back with a renewed striking force, ready to hit us right in the gut. The Leicester trio, the dark eye lined, the brutal, the mysterious, the perilous beings of irony and satire are back once more to overcome themselves as they continue to question the true nature of humanity.A fierce and heart-pounding track that attacks steadily and with control. A melting bass, tight drums, wailing guitar notes… Real talk. Real energy.  The intimidating mantra continues as a dark omen. The beat returns. Ecstasy."

Saturday, 25 June 2022

Team Player

   


Available at > YouTube | Amazon Music | Spotify | Apple Music

Team Player is the June 2022 single by 9 o'clock Nasty.


Listening Notes

Team Player? Never.  A song for everyone that chooses not to comply.

Words

From the push to the shove I'll see you later

A real broken heart, he's the team player

Takes what he wants and plays both ends

The lock on the door, he's team player.


I may be some time


Metal to the pedal, box out the flag

He's a real base toucher, a real team player

His ask from you, his hymn sheet singer

His same direction puller, real team player


I may be some time


(c) 2022 9 o'clock Nasty


Sydd Spudd Drums

Pete Brock Guitar, keys, vocals

Ted Pepper Bass, vocals

Friday, 3 June 2022

HORATIO R RACCOON'S POLAR ADVENTURE

 

We are using this page to collect the diary notes from this June series of social media posts for anyone that misses a post online. If you enjoy this and want more, look up @souladvocatefiction on Insta.

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We have come into possession of the private diary of celebrated raccoon adventurer Horatio R Raccoon. Famous for his ability to collaborate with anyone from any walk of life we felt his story would be an excellent run up to our next single, Team Player. We will share the diary entries from Horatio’s involvement in the Polar Expedition led by Scott, seeking to make the Union Jack the first flag to fly at the South Pole.

3rd January 1912

Awoke aroused and hungry. Broke fast on the last of the sprouts pickled in cider vinegar. I shall trump all day and all night but it shall be worth it. Taking advantage of Evan’s party making the return journey I added a fine sketch of my erect manhood to my letter to Lady Elisa Chobham-Chobham-Carter-Chobham with a few kind and well chosen words. She shall be delighted to receive it I have no doubt. An unsolicited sketch of a personal nature is after all what the gentler sex aspire to in every way and in some three months she will have a delightful surprise. Scott and party seem angered at my late rising however this was the final chance for a lie in and some personal care before the last big push to the pole and I was not going to carry heavy nuts over the ice plateau. The party was thus my own good self, Scott, Wilson, Oates and Edgar Evans. Bowers who believed the fifth place was his was sore troubled by my selection, but as principal financial backer it was my choice to make. 

All the ponies except my blessed Bobby were shot and butchered on the ice. I ensured Bobby has double ration of oats and hay for the journey ahead and the finest woollen boots made from the spare blankets and one of Wilson’s. Oates was most frustrated that we were a party of five when all the rations and weight calculations called for a group of four. He can go on a little too much. I shall have to even the score with him on another day, but for now I have contented myself with cutting the ends off his spare socks. Let’s see how he likes cold wet toes on the hardest march on earth.

9th January 1912

The whole party, and Scott in particular very excited today. As dark fell we arrived at what they call “Shackleton’s Furthest South.” I was hoping for some kind of hotel, bar or other facility but it seems to be just another empty piece of ice blasted by endless wind. The others were outside shouting at me to get up so we could take a commemorative photograph but I need some time in the morning for personal grooming and they became angry at my tardy arrival. 

The extra tent time allowed me to finish the delicious rich fruit cake wrapped in greaseproof paper I found at the bottom of the supplies boxes. Bobby is not enjoying the weather but he is fattening up nicely thanks to the oat and corn mix I liberated from supplies for him. My gloves have been bothering me so I have exchanged mine with Oates. All in all a trying yet positive day.

10th January 1912


A black flag was sighted on the horizon. Scott and Evans were distraught when they saw this. “Amundsen made it before us” they wept. Teeth were gnashed and hair was pulled. It was a little tiresome in truth. I shared the last oaty biscuit from supply box 3 with Wilson and told him my best joke about Otters and lubricants. He laughed so loud he fell over and was stared at very hard by our expedition leader who saw the biscuit crumbs in his beard. Scott was sore vexed at that point and explained that the big box of Oaty biscuits was for the return journey and on no account was Wilson to take any more food from Supply Box 3 for anything so vulgar as a snack. This made me think. Scott will be most annoyed. 

I have resolved to edit the supplies list to remove the items in boxes 2 and 3 that I have been picking at whilst peckish. Had a lovely dream, about Lady Elisa Chobham-Chobham-Carter-Chobham last night. Phwoar, as they say in the colonies.

17th January 1912


Today I was roused most rudely. I had settled in for a rather nice second sleep and Scott demanded I rouse myself. It seems we have determined we are at exactly the South Pole. I pointed out, with all the evidence at my disposal, that there is on fact no pole, and therefore Scott is highly mistaken. Amundsen had left his tent and some supplies here together with a letter he hoped Scott would deliver onwards for him and a note that had Scott enraged and furious again. He really should learn to control his temper.  There was a box of Kendall Mint Cake in the tent, intended as a gift no doubt. Whilst Scott raged on, I managed to pocket it for later. I absolutely hate the stuff, but of late the ration of food is barely touching the sides as it goes down, and I am a raccoon in need of sustenance. There was also a small bag of apples, which I fed to Bobby. He is managing to put on a good amount of weight during our trek, I fancy I shall be able to enter him into the Pony Club awards when we get home. 

So it seems I am the first raccoon to reach the South Pole. Unless Amundsen had a raccoon in his party. Which in fairness is possible as we are excellent explorers, one and all.

20th January 1912

Weather bad today so we only marched for two hours before constructing a crude windbreak and setting up tents. The others gathered in Wilson’s tent to share the warmth of one oil heater, apparently my high sprout diet huffing is a source of some discomfort, so I have used Scott’s and between the warmth of Bobby snuggled up besides me, my warm emissions and the spare oil heater which I have cranked up to full power, it is actually quite jolly. I found the expedition logs and maps so I had fun amending the charts showing where we will meet the dog team. I really cannot stand those huskies so it will be a blessing not to have to see them and their pesky supplies and such a jolly jape. Oh how Scott will laugh back in London where I explain my clever ruse to all assembled. I have also changed the supplies log to show that Evans took all the items I have liberated from the boxes this past month. I considered Wilson who took the fall for the oaty biscuits but it really isn’t fair to mess with the same chap twice, as I learn to my cost at boarding school. Arf Arf, such jolly times.

7th Feb 1912

Mixed sort of day. Scott’s temper gets worse and worse. He claims his tent stinks of horse, which is a ridiculous assertion in the polar waste. He keeps looking at Bobby strangely. I have fashioned a rather fetching bow for Bobby’s hair using Oates’ one remaining sock. 

Oates is complaining of something called frostbite and limps terribly. He is slowing us down but I keep him amused and laughingly tell him to keep up or we will leave him to die. On the plus side we are now on the long descent from the high plateau, so hopefully we will find a nice hotel soon.

Ah actually there is one thing. Scott is desperately angry that we can’t find some supply depot. He keeps looking at his charts and walking up and down and scratching his head. I do hope he will find the anecdote of how I altered the map amusing when we are all sitting besides a nice warm fire and sipping the most excellent brandy of Lord Augustus Chobham-Chobham-Carter-Chobham. Ah when I think of his darling wife, I can barely suppress a whimper. 

8th Feb 1912

Scott remarked that the supplies seem quite light and resolved to check them tomorrow. I have had to use an old ruse I learned in my days at Eton. I found an outcrop of rocks, some of which seem to have some of those new-fangled fossil things and placed them in the supplies boxes to bring them back up to full weight. With luck that will do the trick. Edgar Evans is pulling the supplies sled and is grunting spectacularly so I hope I didn’t overdo it, but now Scott can forget about these silly concerns and enjoy the view. Bobby was suffering from the effort of carrying the spare oil cans, so I have emptied them, which greatly eased his passage. When I look into his big brown pony eyes I really feel like he understands me on a deep level.

9th Feb 1912 

Today is a dark, dark day. Evans is no longer with us.

Scott was angry yet again last night. He had resolved to check the supplies and when he found the boxes to be almost empty except for the rather wonderful fossils I added, he checked the expedition logbook and found entries from Evans bless his heart, withdrawing food for himself. Bless him, I can get peckish and I understand the feeling all too well. Anyway there was a ruckus. A tussle. Fisticuffs. Scott battered Evans to death with a tentpole and spat on the body. After, when he had calmed, we all agreed to write in our diaries that poor Edgar Evans had fallen and died, a brave British gentleman. I found some chocolate in Evan’s pockets, which is the only way I can manage to eat that blasted mint cake. Almost finished it.

Edgar Evans fell and died a brave British gentleman with a bump on his head.

11th February 1912


Even more arguments. We are no longer a united group. I was disturbed from my morning self-affections by shouting. I had time to make a brief but perfunctory climax before rising to find Scott once more furious. It seems there was someone’s birthday this day and a fruit cake was supposed to be saved to share at this special moment. We all told Scott that he shouldn’t worry and we would all forgo our share of this missing cake, although I for one suspect Scott himself had it. In any case I have resolved to take a little extra rations tonight to compensate for this missing cake. I cannot recall whose birthday it was, I am a forgetful scamp at times. But I do seem to recall the cake was quite delicious.

10th March 1912 

We gave up on the dog team today. We had been marching along what should have been their track in the hope of meeting them, but Oates’ feet are causing him some embarrassment and we make slow speed. There is an emergency supply dump off our current route and we shall divert. I am reliably informed there will be oaty biscuits there. Bravo.

We all gathered in Scott’s tent this evening. There was no food, but as I had managed to partake of the last cheese and crackers earlier my stomach was calm. Scott shared what was left of his brandy only to discover that some absolute oaf had drunk it and replaced it with cold tea. A terrible trick I learned at Oxford. I do like a good nip of the brandy.

An otherwise pleasant evening was spoiled when Oates removed his boots and we saw the state of his feet. I must admit I lost the contents of my stomach all over Wilson at the sight of the blackened toes, and he in turn dry heaved for minutes thereafter. Scott wrapped the feet in bandages and said some kind words. He seems now somewhat resigned and less angry which is a blessing.

I gave Bobby an extra special cuddle later.

16th March 1912

Oates has been a real problem these past two days. He limps and curses, and plainly is slowing us all down. When I suggested a game of snow-cricket but asked not to be in his team he was really vexed. We did play in the end and myself and Wilson beat Scott and Oates by an innings.

At supper, which consisted of three boiled beans made into soup (which I secretly supplemented with a fine piece of dried beef which was tough but tasty) Oates was about to remove his bandages. I told him in no uncertain terms he should do that outside the tent. “Fuck right off with your pestilent feet” I said. Oates was very good about it and told us he may be some time. Well obviously he will. He has been gone a while, but it does make a bit more room without him.

20th March 1912

I finally had to put my foot down. The others are struggling to keep up with Bobby and rarely speak. It lightly snowed today and I resolved that we should stop. 

Scott protested that we were but 11 miles from more supplies but I told him in no uncertain terms that Bobby and I would not march in snow. We made a better camp and will wait here until the snow passes. I have actually found some rather nice snacks in one of the old backpacks, which I have put to one side as we all share the bean soup collectively which they all seem to enjoy but Bobby and I need something more substantial to keep the hunger at bay!

29th March 1912


Scott wrote and wrote in his diary and composed letters late into the night last night. Wilson just lay in his cot and cried and then fell silent. Eventually Scott put down his pen and slumped in a most indecorous manner by the heater, which at that point was out of fuel anyway. I gave myself full personal attention for two hours whilst remembering my last tryst with Lady Elisa Chobham-Chobham-Carter-Chobham and achieved a most satisfactory conclusion, but by then I was ready to make the march with my darling Bobby. As Scott and Wilson refused to leave their places, I determined to strike out for the coast. Bobby and I will march due North to the rendezvous and Scott and Wilson with their stinky bean soup can just catch us later. Lazybones. This whole polar adventure thing truly is most tiresome. We shall find this supply dump and dine well this very night.

Postscript


Horatio R Raccoon’s presentation on his polar expedition was suppressed by the British Geographical Society for many years as being unseemly, unpatriotic and not aligned with the accepted narrative. He lived on for a long and happy life with Bobby in a cottage in Kent where he cultivated opium and was the favoured lover of many Ladies of great repute. He served with distinction on both sides in the Great War and wrote several volumes of memoirs, which we may unearth for you one day.

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 If you enjoy the writing, you can find more by following @souladvocatefiction, artwork is by @addermyre

Horatio Raccoon’s diary inspired us to write our next single “TEAM PLAYER.” It drops on Saturday 25th June. You can pre-save it now. Link in bio.
#polar #artic #scott #raccoon #history #explorer #antarctic #polar #brave #snacks #nibbles