Our world will never struggle to produce new bands that are in thrall to the analogue rush of Sabbath, Purple and the rest of the 70s hard rock fraternity, so it takes a band with something special to stand out. Red Spektor make no attempts to reinvent the wheel, but their debut album is one of the most ludicrously enjoyable slabs of red-eyed riff rock to emerge in years. A three-man outfit from Stoke-on-Trent, they put their collective efficacy down to instinct.
“We’ve never had a masterplan,” says bassist Rob Farrell. “The songs grow from jamming – it’s organic. The music is the sum of us just doing what we love.”
Such is the diversity of the retro rock and doom scenes of 2016 that subgenre tags rarely seem necessary, and yet there is something thrillingly familiar about Red Spektor’s propulsive freakouts that almost makes them seem like a 21st-century upgrade of a well-worn stoner rock blueprint. However, this band are no slaves to the bong.
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“The stoner tag found us,” notes drummer Daz Bowen. “We don’t reject it, because drugs were a part of us in the past. But not these days.”
“Now the staple diet of Red Spektor is bourbon and Guinness!” adds Rob.
As much as they like a drink, there is nothing shambolic or sluggish about Red Spektor’s music. This is an exercise in vivid nostalgia that reaffirms the ageless allure of overdriven guitars and swaggering grooves. All that remains to ask is this: who, or what, is the Red Spektor?
“It’s three mystical beasts that joined into one,” says Daz.
“Ha!” Rob concurs. “A monster that hungers to play music.”
