MUSIC

What Am I? (LP, Angel Records)

• Rita Lynch has never been one to mince her words or her music, but hell, her last album sounds positively baroque compared to the still bloody, pulsing slabs of blues-punk-howl being dissected – no , slashed up – on ‘What Am I?’ The Lynch mob numbers two – her, vocals and guitars, poised/precarious, could go either way; him, John Langley, Lord High Executioner of the crash bang frenzy – but that only makes what’s being dished out twice as nasty. Doubly livid. There are no overtures, this starts as it means to go on: angrily. Tunefully, too. Even, whisper it, catchy. But overall, here’s a very, very bad mood, distilled, bottled, lit and thrown into the crowd. ‘What Am I?’ asks Rita. Some might say passionate. That’s a noun for dorks who sell homemade candles. Rita, you’re a fuck you flame-thrower on a mission to clear the pop bunkers, by any means necessary. More power. (Cris Warren)

www.myspace.com/ritalynchbristol