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Whatever your opinion on Gallows, or the ill-fated Pure Love, few could deny that Frank Carter is a ferociously accomplished frontman.
He exploded onto the scene in a scrum of venomous barbs and flailing limbs, spending the majority of his time in the circle pits that fans affectionately opened for him, rather than shackled to the stage that many of his contemporaries floundered upon. Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes and their debut album, Blossom, should have him returning to his rightful place - shoulder to bloody shoulder with his adoring public.
It's only as you listen that you realise how much we've missed Carter. His passion is utterly infectious, and his bloodthirsty growl seems to trigger a ticking time bomb within your brain - as he screeches lines like, "Yeah, it's fucking lonely, we all die too" on 'Loss', an inexplicable grin spreads across your face, as it becomes clear that the returning hero has plenty more bile to spit.
While Pure Love's embrace of arena-sized rock could be viewed as a misfire by many, it's difficult to imagine this record being made without the learning curve that no doubt accompanied it; tracks such as 'Devil Inside Me' find Carter employing his impressive croon once again, and 'I Hate You' closes the album on an anthemic note that wouldn't have felt out of place on his previous record. A glimpse at a future direction, perhaps?
For now, however, the Rattlesnakes have invested heavily in bruising breakdowns and thunderous riffs - a bucket load of them - and they barely relent for the thirty five minute running time. 'Fangs' boasts a choral refrain that feels shaped and twisted by a swirling circle pit, whereas 'Rotten Blossom' enrolls a loud and quiet dynamic to devastating effect.
Caution's probably advisable but, as Carter would say, fuck it. Putting yourself in the firing line has never been so much fun.
