Welcome to the bizarre world of the rude mechanicals a crooked band of n’er do well minstrels so out of step with the pop’s pulse beat they sound as though they‘ve been beamed in from some surreal cartoon world where mayhem, ghouls and strange goings on appear the norm. ’the cyclops and the wildebeests’ be their debut full length following a spate of limited releases, a chaotic and spastically spewed gem of such erratic schizoid persona and chaotic verve you’d do well to take heed of precautionary health concerns in ducking and darting to avoid its Catherine wheel like emitting sharp shards. Headed up by the mysterious Miss Roberts, rude mechanicals weave to their wayward tapestry an intoxicating and impishly incorrigible array of skittish grooves whose references stray with scythe like precision across a skewed wasteland of discarded mutant body parts whose origins are encountered in impish music hall penny dreadful recitals, Victoriana shanties, art rock and prog from which embraced to their scavenging merry prankster bosom echoes of Bonzo sit disturbingly demurred alongside Brecht and Weill.
(mark barton - the sunday experience)

Track from Rude Mechanicals album Cyclops and the Wildebeest available from Ex Gratia Recordings
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