Send More Paramedics – The Final Feast
Release Date: 17.09.21
Running Time: 27:25
Review by Dark Juan
Hey up, lads and lasses, and folk who aren’t neither of those two. Is tha all alright, like? I’m Dark Juan, and I’m talking broad Yorkshire at tha because I am listening to a band from Leeds, and I’m infamously based just outside of Halifax, and have a Tyke accent thicker than a forest of short planks. Head honcho Beth “Knuckles” Jones would no doubt contend that it’s not my accent that resembles many short planks, but she can frankly bugger off! She’s no lass o’ th’ North! She’s a bloody lowlander! She’s… SOUTHERN!!! (Beth here – I refute this allegation. I am Welsh. Celtic through and through. We were here first. So there. Caed y geg Juan!)
Or at least more Southern than myself and the almighty chip on my shoulder. (I’ll let you off this once, but do it again and there’ll be a leek with your name on it! – Beth)
For all our international friends who read this nonsense and wonder just what the fuck the demented Brit is babbling wildly about this time, you should understand that Britain is not like other countries. The ruder we are about each other, generally the more we like each other. There has been a political and wealth North/ South divide for centuries in the UK and we will NEVER pass up a chance to take the piss out of each other about it. No matter how Northern or Southern you are though, you’ll all immediately ally yourselves together in the face of someone from Birmingham! However, generally, if beer is involved and there’s large gaggles of you out, you’ll all end up being each other’s best friends and dribbling over each other within an hour. British friendship is fuelled by alcohol consumption and the pub. And the shockingly bad kebab you’ll get yourself on the way home and inevitably vomit up the morning after, as you crawl white, weakened, shaking and zombie-like from your bed…
Which is a FUCKING MARVELLOUS segue into the fact that I am listening to Leeds-based zombie thrash band Send More Paramedics. This legendary crew of brain eating undead bastards had been prowling the environs of Leeds and Bradford since 2001, before being staked the fuck down in their graves again by a terrified populace (if you’ve ever been to Bradford, it takes a lot to scare the good burghers of that industrial nightmare of a city) in 2007, and have favoured us with the first new record from them in fifteen years, prior to them playing (as in, acquiring a sizeable food source in a lockable structure) four farewell gigs on Halloween in 2021, before once more being laid to rest, probably in well-secured stainless steel caskets, so the bastards can’t get out again, this time for the final time.
So, what are this bunch of decaying, once living human flesh-consumers offering us? A fucking magical mix of hardcore and classic thrash with a fixation on the rotting, shambling creatures of the night (again, we reference Bradford and its denizens) and horror in general, with a liberal helping of snotty, sneering punk stirred roughly in. Think The Misfits in reverse, being less punk and more metal, but just as obsessed with horror. Classic Thrash Metal in other words. We are all quite aware of my opinion on Thrash Metal and just why it will always be the greatest genre of metal ever. Send More Paramedics should have been absolutely fucking colossal, as they had the chops to play with the biggest of the big boys, a sense of humour, and a desire to not be taken at all seriously, and an aesthetic and stage presence that would have had every single young goth girl going weak at the knees with her Hello Kitty panties spontaneously combusting, as well as being ghoulish enough to impress the young gentlemen too. It is a travesty of the world of metal that SMP did not conquer everywhere and spread their vile pustulence to the whole wide world.
Every song on this record is fucking brilliant. I’m not going to waste your time describing several of them. Lead shouty bastard, B’Hellmouth, has never been in finer voice, his hardcore influenced bark reigning supreme over the music, and the rest of the band also in fine fettle. The guitars are blood dripping riff machines, the bass satisfying heavy enough to tenderise flesh, and the drumming precise and speedy. All of which is remarkable considering the band are zombies and are bound to have bits dropping off them by now.
Stand out track (as in, the one I liked best, wink, wink) is “She Lives”, a two minute thrash blast with a chorus to fucking die for – “First she’ll kick your ass, then she’ll eat your brain!” Sublime.
Send more Send More Paramedics, please! I can’t live without you guys. You are hereby forbidden to split up, by order of Dark fucking Juan!
In conclusion, Send More Paramedics ably display just why British metal is great. We are an awkward, idiosyncratic bunch, who are difficult to manage at best, and downright fucking obtuse and stubborn at worst, but when we pull out our collective fingers, we can make stuff that changes the fucking world. Like this album. I love this record so much I want to have its maggoty, malformed babies, just because Send More Paramedics are so much fucking FUN, and metal needs fun as much as it needs negative emotion and angst to function.
Everyone needs Send More Paramedics in their lives. Buy it. Buy it now.
The Patented Dark Juan Blood Splat Rating System (SEND MORE PARAMEDICS! STOP LICKING THE PATENTED DARK JUAN BLOOD SPLAT RATING SYSTEM!) awards Send More Paramedics a murder spree fuelled, gore soaked 10/10 for a record that has left me wanting so much more from the zombie freakboyz. Alright then, you can lick it now, lads. Make sure it’s clean, eh? You might as well be of some use…
04. She Lives
05. Human Capital
08. Word is the Virus
B’Hellmouth – Vocals
Medico – Guitar
X. Undead – Bass
El Diablo – Drums
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