Three albums in and Gay Paris are now well comfortable within their own, hirsute skins.
While the titles ramble on, the musical approach is rather more coherent than the scatter-gun method of song writing from the first two albums, but ...the Dark Arts is no less of a roller-coaster of jagged riffs, apparently time-signature free drumming and sludge-ridden cross-pollination, overlaid with vocals that sound like whisky dregs drunk from a dirty ashtray. ‘Draw, you Harlequin Saints!’ opens fire with a relentless fervour that rolls on into every track, each one a crazy bulldozer of primal anarchic rock and roll thundering on the brink of chaos. ‘It Sleeps in Caves’ rides on a foundation of churning doom; ‘Cult Slang’ takes a garagish punk turn and ‘The Sackcloth Saint of the Cornfield’ brings Gay Paris to the verge of the mainstream before veering away again before anyone can notice, arcane lyrics raucously mocking the po-faced rock and metal cliches with WH Monks turning in a chameleonic performance of broken rasps, screams and roars and Six Guns Simpson pulling off some incredible moves behind the kit. This is Devil-lovin’ rock and roll Satan himself would be happy to stake a claim to.
1. Draw, You Harlequin Saints!
2. She Haunts Every Dance Floor
3. The Dirt Eaters
4. It Sleeps in Caves
5. The Sackcloth Saint of the Cornfield
6. Flintlock Barbara Goes Boom
7. Ember Season
8. Cult Slang
9. The Devil and Why You’re Not Alone
10. If Beasts Pray