Killing Floor
Out of Uranus

Interesting and – as usual – little-known these Killing Floor, but no matter. Each of you knows how important it is for this reviewer to unearth all those misunderstood talents that the rock gods have left in oblivion. But to tell the truth, this time there's also a bit of a blues demon inside…

The Killing Floor formed in London in the late sixties. Leading them was the very skilled guitarist Mick Clark and the singer/harmonicist Bill Thorndycraft. The band was completed thanks to an ad in Melody Maker (an old weekly magazine that circulated in the UK since the '20s). Bassist Stuard McDonald, pianist Lou Martin, and drummer Buzz Smith were hired. The group immediately demonstrated great harmony and flawless technical execution, especially during an intense live activity in London clubs, alongside names like Yes and Captain Beefheart. This did not go unnoticed, so much so that Swank decided to release their first self-titled album, which received critical acclaim, but not the much-hoped-for commercial success. The album is still a milestone of hard blues and highlights the band's validity and mastery; specifically, the incredible pianist Lou Martin, the lively bass of McDonald, and of course the stunning guitar of Clark.

The lack of public interest in their very first album pushed the Killing Floor to immediately record new material, contained in this Out of Uranus – recorded in '70 and released in '71 – which sounds a bit different from its predecessor, also because of the deliberate absence of pianist Lou Martin. For Out of Uranus, the band opted for a more hard vein, with pieces that are more sparse and aggressive than what was heard before: a determined shift towards purer rock, combined with measured bursts of hard blues and slight psychedelic sprinklings. The intent was to track the sound trends of the moment, trying to follow the paths of all those bands that were contributing to the advent of heavy music. One example above all: Led Zeppelin!

Listening to Out of Uranus, it is evident how the very first records of the "zeppelin" deeply marked the ears of Clarke and his companions, almost to the point of altering their musical nature, thus eliminating the piano virtuosos, but winking at the worthy representatives of the more granite and essential hard blues like Cream and The Jimi Hendrix Experience. In short, Out of Uranus is a tug-of-war between past and present, an arm-wrestle between rock and blues, the extreme, angry cry of a one-of-a-kind group.

The title track – opener of the album – already showcases the band's power thanks to the cutting riffs of Clarke and the vehement and sublime drumming of Smith. It is followed by the most psychedelic piece: Soon There Will Be Everything, supported by the "cosmic" bass of McDonald and the evocative voice of Thorndycraft in the verses. An elaborate song that immediately stands out as one of the less immediate but more interesting moments of the entire work. Acid Bean also deserves a mention, an aggressive and vibrant manifesto of the album, supported by an irresistible riff from Clarke, equally impeccable then in the solo phase. One must wait for Where Nobody Ever Goes to partially and distortedly find the band's primordial character, with a compelling exchange of pleasantries between guitar and harmonica, especially halfway through the track, during a modest but incisive acceleration of the rhythm parts. The album retains its indestructible character even in the central part, where Lou Martin returns – in a single track: Call of the Politicians –, before an ending worthy of note, especially with Lost Alone, an (almost) instrumental track where psychedelic experimentation returns, while it's up to Son of Wet to highlight Smith's skills. A piece that almost seems like a declaration of war against John Bonham and his famous Moby Dick: listen to believe!

Milkman is entrusted with the last ride of this impeccable Out of Uranus, which nevertheless encountered yet another commercial failure, an event that contributed to the dissolution of the band, which then remained buried for over thirty years, a period during which the musicians embarked on new musical adventures. In 2003, the miraculous and unexpected reunion occurred when Clarke decided to reunite the original lineup. The event was celebrated with a new series of UK tours and even with the recording of a new album: Zero Tolerance. A simple act of love towards music, finally letting go of the commercial ambitions of the past and not caring to adapt to any sound trend.

Devoted.