lefttop neu





1. Into The Primitive
2. Girl Like You
3. In And Out
4. Always Come Back Home
5. Evil
6. Every Night
7. You Lied
8. Tried To Let Go
9. The Drone
10. Never Wanted You
11. For She
12. Not At All
13. Without A Feeling

LP: VR1276 (EAN-CODE: 7640148980203)
CD: VRCD76 (EAN-CODE: 7640148980234)


Cape Town didn't know what hit it when The Future Primitives formed in late 2011. From the first strum, this feral three-piece attacked in true garage style with an unmistakable rockabilly attitude mixed with an array of psychedelic leanings drowned in surf-drenched guitar. The Future Primitives alter between old and new, blending and blurring the lines between the two, bending the sound into a shape of its own. South Africa has a small but rich history in garage music (The A-cads, The Gonks, Powerage, The Makeovers etc.) and a fantastic art scene, while being famous for exports such as Distict 9 (the film) and Die Antwoord (hip hop crew)... From today, the wind will blow in another direction... three misfits from Cape Town are hitting up straight from their dark rehearsal room into the clubs where all the cool kids go to change the face of South Africa's music forever... Feedback Orgies. Fuzz Guitar. Direct in Your Face Stomping. Stupid Primitive Drum Beats and Desperate Futureless Screams. This is The Future Primitives. Their name hints at a contradiction that can be heard in their sound as the recordings are stripped of all technological advances, using analogue gear and minimal microphone setups to record live to tape. To them, it's more about capturing a feeling.


Cape Town wusste nicht was geschiet als sie 2011 the Future Primitives Formierten Unglaublich Energie geladen mit einem Wilden Rockabilly groove und Pschadelisch Garage Trash elementen durchsetzt hatte die Stadt dann zum Beben Gebracht und spielten auf und am im Lande Radio stationen Festifals etc. Süd Afrika hatte eine kleine aber Feine Rock'n'Roll und Garagen Szene Szene (The A-cads, The Gonks, Powerage, The Makeovers etc.) und eine überbordende wilde Kunstszene Distict 9 (the film) und Die Antwoord (hip hop crew) und the Future Primitives bringen diese sachen zusammen auf einen punkt, eine wilde Ungestüme Energie ist hinter allem und der Frontmann Johnny Tex sprüht nur so von ideen und das hört man in jedem song von erneuten.. das sind junge Südafrikaner die in die weraus wollen um voll gas zu geben und so präsentiert sich auch dieses nun schon 2te album von the Future Primitives


A co-release between Groovie Records and Voodoo Rhythm. Available on CD and as an LP-version (plus CD). The 2013 full length from South Africa's most sensational garage-punk trio. The Future Primitives from Cape Town deliver a stompin' orgie of feedbackin' fuzz guitar, primitive'n'wild drum beats and mad screamin' vocals. Their band name hints at a contradiction that can be heard in their sound as the recordings are stripped of all technological advances, using analogue gear and minimal microphone setups to record live to tape. See the live-section (at the bottom of this newsletter) for their upcoming gigs. Not to be missed!

Denkt man an Musik, so zählen Südafrika und/oder Kapstadt nicht gerade zu den Orten, die einem spontan in den Sinn kommen. Außer den alternativen Grungern SEETHER oder den unerreichten TRIBE AFTER TRIBE fällt den heutigen Szenekennern vielleicht noch die herrlich schräge White-Trash-Hiphop-Combo DIE ANTWOORD ein. Seit heute ergänzen die FUTURE PRIMITIVES meine kleine Liste. Das Trio hat sich die Primitivität ganz groß auf die Fahne geschrieben. Es sind die Parallelen zwischen heutiger, gern etwas überschätzter Musik und eben primitiver Musik, die die FUTURE PRIMITIVES zu Klampfe, Bass und Trommel greifen und selbst Musik machen ließen. Und dass Primitivität gerade in der Musik gar nicht zu überschätzen ist, wissen nicht nur pillenfutternde Zappelschranzer, sondern auch kein geringerer als LED ZEPPELINs Jimmy Page, der die legendären Konzerte seiner Band als "Mischung aus Rhythmus, Lautstärke und Wiederholung" charakterisierte. Glücklicherweise versuchen die drei weißen Männer vom schwarzen Kontinent jedoch nicht, in den Fußstapfen von Mr. Page & Co. Zu wandeln, sondern sehen ihre Vorbilder eher im ruppig-psychedelischen Beat der KINKS, STOOGES oder der späten BEATLES. Mal garagig scheppernd, mal surfig twangend, immer fuzzig und mit ganz viel Engagement sind THE FUTURE PRIMITIVES bei der Sache und schaffen es, bei allem technischen Minimalismus ein Maximum an Herzblut und Spaß zu transportieren. Coole, live eingespielte Songs mit schönen Chören und erheblichem Ohrwurmcharakter begeistern sicher nicht nur mich; deswegen rate ich allen Freunden firlefanzloser und kompromisslos trocken rockender Platten zum Erwerb von "Into The Primitive".

i94bar ( AUS)
INTO THE PRIMITIVE - The Future Primitives (Voodoo Rhythm)
It took a few plays to work out what makes this South African garage trio such a compelling listen. The sparse, echo-ey production from straight out of 1966 is one thing, the simple songs that would do Billy Childish proud are another, but in the end it's the pure energy and urgency of the playing that's the winner. You did read right and The Future Primitives do come from South Africa. Cape Town, the be precise. What's less obvious is that they're white guys and they have better hair than Wolfmother. Better still, they sound nothing like Wolfmother. This is garage rock with a trace of '50s greaser rock with lashings of psychedelic twang thrown in. Did I say they have not just simple but great songs? There's the Roky-like "Evil", the off-kilter pop of "In And Out" and the feedback-and-jungle-drums-laden title track to name just three. The stuttering dissonance and "ah-ah-ah" chorus of "You Lied" highlights another gem while "Tried To Let Go" is a potential beat anthem. Thee Milkshakes cover ("For She") is nailed perfectly.  Putting aside the exotic origins of the band (and South Africa does have a garage rock/punk scene - it's just not that obvious), we should judge this album on its merits. Which are considerable to these ears, despite constant exposure to this sort of music to the point of occasional overload. The Future Primitives aren't so much breaking new ground outside of their homeland as taking garage rock back to some of its familiar stamping grounds, by embarking on a tour of Europe in September 2013. More power to them. Recorded live to tape with a few microphones and analogue gear, "Into The Primitive" was always going to find a spiritual home on Voodoo Rhythm, the kings of lo-fi rock skronk. If their ouevre is your bag, you're probably going to take to this. - The Barman

« Écoute Maurice », dit un jour mon voisin Robert à son beau-frère, qui s'appelait justement Maurice, à l'époque puissamment angoissée par l'imminence manifeste de son décès pronostiqué par le cancérologue du coin, particulièrement lucide sur ce coup-là. « Écoute Maurice », donc, « la mort, je commence à en avoir plein le cul ». Bon, vous commencez à connaître Robert, sa rhétorique est toujours du plus bel effet en société. Fulgurante. À sa décharge, Maurice venait, il est vrai assez souvent se décharger la conscience d'interrogations légitimes vis-à-vis du trépas. Et Robert, lui, comme vous le savez, préfère nettement penser à comment réussir à tringler la sœur de Maurice plutôt que de se faire des nœuds dans la tête avec ces histoires de je vais clamser et j'ai peur. Quelques godets d'apéro maison et c'est parti, Cicéron peut aller se rhabiller, la machine à penser s'est mise en marche. La mort peut donc remplir un rectum à s'en faire déborder l'anus.
Et si ? Et si j'avais dû à ce moment précis aller chez Robert, un disque sous le bras, afin de lui démontrer que la mort, c'est assez riche pour ne pas s'en lasser. Mh... Opération suicide version kamikaze à la ceinture d'explosifs, objecteriez-vous. Que nenni ! Je crois que j'aurais choisi le dernier album des futures Primitives. Drôle de choix, me diriez-vous. C'est un choix, vous rétorquerais-je. Surtout qu'il y aurait eu paradoxe temporel puisque je vous parle d'un temps lointain où Raymond Domenech avait encore quelque crédit en tant que sélectionneur d'équipe de France, tandis que Into the Primitive n'est à cette heure pas encore disponible. OK. Acceptons, je vous prie, le principe de l'uchronie, sinon on ne s'en sortira pas. Pour information, Robert ne connaît pas l'uchronie. Robert, le dictionnaire, pas mon voisin. Robert mon voisin, lui, est une uchronie perpétuelle. Tenez, il croit encore que c'est normal de tuer les cochons avec des grands couteaux. Bref.
Visualisons la scène : flanqué de Maurice, petit et frêle dans son costume de sursitaire, et de la Janou, la sœur de Maurice, Robert aurait trôné au fond de l'impasse, fier comme un pape dans son débardeur vert XXL siglé Tropic Banana et illustré de quelques fruits du même nom, les avant-bras posés sur la table pliante en formica, ses énormes mains occupées à écosser quelque flageolet et m'auraient interpellé avec sympathie :
- Alors ? C'est quoi dont qu'tu trimballes là ?
M'interrogeant in petto quant à la légitimité de mon probable coup d'éclat, pas bien rassuré, j'aurais probablement bafouillé :
- Euh, ch'tai entendu, d't'a l'heure, et c'était heu pour te dire que la mort, hé ben ça peut êt' cool.
Un froid s'installe immédiatement. Le temps se suspend. Dans une impasse brûlée par le soleil, à l'abri de tout souffle éolien, une goutte de sueur coulant le long d'une tempe est le seul mouvement perceptible. Une main épaisse chasse négligemment une mouche posée sur un menton mal rasé. Maurice sait qu'il va mourir, et ça lui fait de peine d'entendre des conneries pareilles, il va pas tarder à se mettre à gueuler. La Janou, faut pas toucher à son frangin, sinon ça va chier. Donc, ça va chier.
Et Robert, lui, il a peut-être pas bien compris, alors il demande :
- Ah bon ?
Je n'ai pas droit à l'erreur. Il faut que j'enchaîne immédiatement, sinon c'est foutu, ils vont gueuler trop fort, je ne pourrai plus faire entendre ma magistrale démonstration. D'un geste vif, je me saisis du disque qui était, rappelez-vous, sous mon bras et je bloque toute velléité de leur part en interposant la pochette du 33 tours que voici : trois jeunes gens, côte-à-côte, chacun le visage dissimulé par un crâne décharné très manifestement humain qu'il tient de ses deux mains. Au dessus, comme gribouillé vite fait, le nom du groupe et le titre du disque. Maurice déglutit parce que merde, quand même. Robert se demande à quel moment il a commencé à plus rien comprendre. La Janou monte en pression, la jauge est dans le rouge. C'est le moment que choisit Gilbert, le fils de l'un et par conséquent neveu des deux autres, pour se pointer, protubérance abdominale lipidique en avant et regard charolais, les mains coincées dans les poches de jean's trop serré. Notons que ce personnage, de par son indigence existentielle, ne jouera strictement aucun autre rôle quant au dénouement de la scène qui se déroule au ralenti sous nos yeux anxieux.

La pochette, donc, les scotche. Les premières trépidations rythmiques du titre éponyme, Into The Primitive, claquent dans l'air chargé d'ozone. Poum tap poum tap poum tap poum tap ; une série de larsens et c'est parti pour la grosse calotte, fuzz et mélodies imparables, voix déchirée, saturée, couinements lors du refrain, trois notes sonores en guise de leitmotiv, un solo qui dégénère en magma, prenez ça dans la gueule les voisins.
Puis ça enchaîne sur du garage punk au son de guitare sec comme les couilles à Taupin (Girl Like You, expédiée en moins d'une minute trente, ou encore You Lied), de l'arpège surf (In and Out, faut-il y voir une connotation sexuelle à destination de Robert ?), des morceaux tout en tension émotive (Every Night) que n'auraient pas reniés The 13th Elevators période Psychedelic Sounds, ou The Seeds version Try to Understand, ce qui est un compliment, ce dernier exemple étant pour moi une des plus grosses tueries du rock'n'roll. Bon, je ne vais pas vous en faire la liste, le reste est à l'encan, avec des hauts et des bas, sans trop de surprise hormis celle d'avoir dans les oreilles une telle maîtrise de la composition et des passages obligés du surf-garage-psyché. Un petit bémol, cependant : la perte de puissance due aux solos. Ben oui, y'a pus d'guitare, rhôô ben merde, y peut pas tout faire.

Tout ça pour dire que mes voisins se prennent donc une bonne avoinée dans les oreilles, pendant 37 minutes, ils ne peuvent pas dire de conneries et moi j'ai écouté un putain de bon disque, j'en reviens toujours pas. Je n'ai probablement pas persuadé mes interlocuteurs de la pertinence du décès, encore que Maurice ... Il est peut-être convaincu que la mort, ça peut être de la bombe. Mais allez savoir... ça fait un moment qu'on n'a plus de nouvelles.

Let's be honest, mainstream music and overly sophisticated music can be boring as hell. If you are anything like me, you appreciate the sloppier, crazier, louder, and altogether more primitive-sounding music that exists on the fringes of it all. One of those bands, a trio I hadn't even heard of until very recently, just happens to be called The Future Primitives. Basically, they are an eccentric, long-haired, instrument-abusing three-piece out of Cape Town, South Africa, that play fuzzed-out garage punk and trashy primal beat music. Their sound is a science as bizarre and unruly as Chaos Theory. And while these lads entirely stand on their own with a wildly original sound, it can be somewhat likened to shoving bands such as Pangea, Mosquito Bandito, Dinosaur Jr, The Kidnappers, The Human Expression, The Monsters, Wheels on Fire, and the like, into an enormous meat-grinder and cranking them out to form thick sonic paddies of dissonance and melody, electric distorted progressions and unhinged anarchic rhythms and noise pollution vocals from a throat like a ramshackle haunted house contaminated with word-virus lyrics.
The Future Primitives have only just released their debut full-length "Into the Primitive" on Voodoo Rhythm Records, which is without a doubt the best home label out there in the scene for such a band. With the thirteen tracks on "Into the Primitive," The Future Primitives have fashioned so much noise into an art form, with ear-bleeding fuzz guitar, otherworldly reverb saturation, skull-splitting psycho drums, waves of feedback, and manic vocals. As Voodoo Rhythm Records often advertises regarding their catalog of releases, about them being "records to ruin any party"...well, that is plenty true when it comes to "Into the Primitive." At the right bash, though, it would be just the right thing. After all, this is music which shifts gears from indie-pop as filthy and hairy as piece of hard candy under a sofa cushion, to a beach blanket shindig with bloody bikini girls and blaring surf rock radio, to a feral caveman dance party and voodoo cannibal cookout, to the erratic pulse of a schizo methamphetamine freak, to rockabilly drag races followed by musical car wrecks and garage punk funeral processions, to the psychedelic echoes and outsider attitude of the revolutionary beat rock of the roaring '60s...as well as other compass points across the underground territories of sound.
This trio's band name, although an utter contradiction, is a rather apt one, being that their sound reaches back through the years to recapture the music of a bygone rock'n'roll era, while at the same time bastardizing it by dragging it into the present and drenching it in feedback and big fuzz garage-punk guitars, and in trashy, hyperactive percussion and wild vocals...and it also time-travels forward into the future, where their music serves as an apocalyptic soundscape over the glorious fall of civilization, leaving the world no choice but to return to the primitive.
It's not often that I say this, but the eleven originals on "Into the Primitive" are equally good, each in its own way, and both of the cover songs—For She by The Milkshakes and Every Night by The Human Expression (both bands clearly influences to the trio)—are remarkably well executed. Such a thing would undoubtedly prove difficult, but if I were forced to choose a few standout tracks from this album, they would be: the opener, which incidentally is also the title track, Into the Primitive, then In and Out, You Lied, Tried to Let Go, The Drone, and Girl like You.
Even though I am not as knowledgeable about the South African garage scene as I would like to be, I would dare say that The Future Primitives may just be their finest rock'n'roll export thus far. I am certainly stoked about their debut "Into the Primitive," and I am very much looking forward to hearing more from them in the future. This is one of those records you just cannot help but to turn up all the way, or at least as far as your sound system can take it.
If the above description of this album seems like something you would enjoy, you can get a copy on compact disc or vinyl from Voodoo Rhythm.

Stripped down, digital age-averse, animal-esque garage-abilly from South Africa that's as ominous as a South African villain in a Lethal Weapon movie and as dangerous as a starving lion in a neglected South African game park and as awesome as the classic South African garage rock of A-Cads or Johnny Congo (and exactly 1 million times awesomer than Dave Matthews). This sounds like genuine 60s rock...as in the year 60, when people made music by beating rocks.

Os agitadores da Cidade do Cabo, The Future Primitives atacam novamente!!!  "Into The Primitive" é já o seu terceiro álbum e o segundo para a fornecedora de intoxicações de rock, Groovie Records, agora com a co-edição da primitiva e chacinante Voodoo Rhythm.  O momento é de aumentar o volume e escutarem o poder daquilo que pode ser chamado de ruido no garage fuzz punk.  Mas não só, as músicas deste disco estabelecem também como estilo o mid-tempo mais psych e continuam a bater e repreender o hipnótico garage rock'n'roll até ao bom e emplumado vibrar dos 60's.  Vocalizações em reverb hostilizam os mais finos efeitos de guitarra e os ritmos cavernosos promovem a escuridão de alguns efeitos mais infeciosos.  "Girl Like You" e and "In And Out" são canções ácidas no vibrar surf dançante é carregadas de batidas de bateria com ressoares de feedback.  Existe um sentimento escuro estendido logo por baixo da superfície de algumas músicas, que dão ao disco uma sonoridade uivante nas vibrações. "Evil" e "You Lied" são simples, mas grandes canções, mergulhadas no rockabilly dos 50's, de um pulsar tão energético que se pode sentir através das nossas veias.  E há muito de feedback-fuzz, hooks para escutarem durante dias, selvagens e primitivas batidas de bateria, mas "Tried To Let Go" é um hino no ritmo.  "For She", uma cover e obra-prima dos Thee Milkshakes é tocada como ela merece, perfeito na utilização da guitara.  The Future Primitives infundem as suas músicas de garage com algum mistério e ligaduras na produção de um volume pouco lavado, isso porque todas as músicas foram gravadas em fita, com parafernália analógica e alguns microfones que tornaram este disco um ganhador desde a primeira há última música. 

Colored Vinyl! (Woohooo, und was für Schönes!!) Mit Album Nummer zwei sind die Süd-Afrikaner beim schweizer Qualitätslabel vom Reverend gelandet und liefern dort mal nebenbei eine der smartesten Voodoo Rhythm Scheiben ab. Der Sound kommt im Vergleich zu anderen Labelkollegen deutlich tighter und vermengt Neo-Garagepunk mit Neo-Psychedelia. Das erinnert an Roky Erickson, Ty Segall, die Knaughty Knights und macht schlicht und ergreifend eine Menge Spaß. Drei Daumen hoch für dieses Schätzchen! * Voodoo Rhythm

LP-version plus CD. The 2013 full length from South Africa's most sensational garage-punk trio, The Future Primitives from Cape Town. A stompin' orgie of feedbackin' fuzz guitar, primitive'n'wild drum beats and mad screamin' vocals. Their band name hints at a contradiction that can be heard in their sound as the recordings are stripped of all technological advances, using analogue gear and minimal microphone setups to record live to tape.

The 2013 full length from South Africa's most sensational garage-punk trio, The Future Primitives from Cape Town. A stompin' orgie of feedbackin' fuzz guitar, primitive'n'wild drum beats and mad screamin' vocals. Their band name hints at a contradiction that can be heard in their sound as the recordings are stripped of all technological advances, using analogue gear and minimal microphone setups to record live to tape.

Between the coffee and sensory overload of garage rock awesomeness, I admit, I had to take some time out to digest and let this fantastic album, called "Into the Primitive" and out via Voodoo Rhythm and Groovie Records, really sink in before I could properly delve into these tracks and put together a review hopefully capable of somewhat doing both it and its incredibly talented trio of creators, The Future Primitives, justice. For what these dudes from South Africa have captured, as the title of the album strongly insinuates, is an incredibly raw, high-energy, and high-stamina thirteen-track LP radiating with fuzzy, scuzzy, and reckless head-spinning garage-punk abandon in the most awesome and, of course, primitive of ways.
Things kick into action with the title track, "Into the Primitive" which, appropriately enough, begins with a furious backing drumbeat and roaring guitar feedback before carrying on into its frantic paced and chanty garage riffs. Things get a bit rougher in "Girl Like You", the shortest track on the album, and quite possibly the punchiest of the bunch, before slowing things down ever so slightly and transitioning into the lighter, twangier, and surf poppy sensibilities of the third track, "In and Out". Up next, "Always Come Back Home" introduces a tambourine into the percussion repertoire adding a bit of that jangly vibe to the mix.
Quite possibly the edgiest, hard-nosed, and edgiest track on the album, "Evil" incorporates some vague hints of dark, raunchy, psychy rockabilly for a crunchy tune that packs one hell of a bite before again slowing things down, or rather, spacing things out, in "Every Night"– a track punctuated by some minimal, yet lovely little guitar lead play. Harkening back to the raunchy rockabilly elements of "Evil", track number 7, "You Lied", is a quite bouncy tune with a lot of presence magnified by its high velocity wildness. Following this frenetic whirlwind of a song is "Tried to Let Go", an excellent track carried by an incredibly simple, yet fascinatingly catchy bass and drum beat. From there, the awesomeness just carries on for another five tracks, most notably "Not At All" which starts in with one sick and crunchy bass line. Check out some of these awesome tunes for yourself, and definitely be sure to purchase the album via the links below.

Although Lenny Helsing offered words of faint press (he was non dismissal) of this young South African trio's debut album, I personally found it a real let down. Too much oomph and not enough care.
With follow-up Into The Primitive the lads have certainly perfected their own take on "garage" with Roky does Buddy Holly howls, a driving beat that borrows from both Back From The Grave stompers and The Cramps equally. The Pandoras, The Makers and other trashed out '80s/90s garage/trash acts like The Spider Babies can also be heard too. The Hermits anyone? In fact, The Future Primitives do have something of the early '90s Italian trash-garage scene about them.
Sure, Into The Primitive does become a one trick pony, but this kind of garage-punk really isn't about subtlety, and, that said, they do throw in a quirky garagebeat teen ballad 'In And Out' (which sounds a little, and I say a little, like The Barracudas, as it's too punky to be a straight ahead '60s number) to even things out. Really, there's no disputing the youthful excitement The Future Primitives create with their mutated surf solos, clattering drums and an intensity that the over 40 garage bands just can't achieve. When the rest of the world has gone psychedelic it's refreshing to hear such a crude blast of primal fun.
Jon 'Mojo' Mills

FUTURE PRIMITIVES: Into the Primitive: CD
Voodoo Rhythm is another one o' those labels that ain't afraid to put out music that grays up the areas around the "garage rock" niche its releases often fall into. This is a prime example of that, wherein you have a band that strips the whole garage thing down to its sonic and structural bare bones while still somehow managing to drop shades of '50s rock'n'roll, '60s beat, trash punk, and even some psychedelia into the mix. No simple hat trick, that. The results echo the storied careers of both The Cramps and Thee Headcoats whilst not sounding much like either. Danceable, raw, and not aiming to sound like the rest of the punters. –Jimmy Alvarado