Take one manic guitarist with a vicious tone (Jon Free from the vastly unappreciated Penthouse/50 Tons Of Black Terror), add one savage drummer and a frontwoman who could kiss you and cut you simultaneously.

Play very loud.

For listeners bored with Brody, completely over PJ Harvey and wished the White Stripes were dangerous.

FAVORITE SONG: "Cool Like An Axe"

Jason Pettigrew

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...And here we are in the world of fury, rage, and an impatient desire to kill and fuck all at once. The Gin Palace barely even give their own songs the time of day (seven songs played in 11 minutes and 28 frantic, rugged seconds) so they're sure as hell not going to entertain any other high-income low-life that tries to get in the way of their shit-path of super destruction.

Meaghan coughs up and hurls out come-ons and come-on-thens, like a tramp posessed. When they're not playing sixties girl group rhythms and Cramps goo-goo muck, they're affecting the coruscating dirge of early hole, with all the threat and menace and pure hell that that implies.

"Where are my shoes?" Meaghan wails in a tortured, five-packs-a-day drawl. The beat kicks in again. It's an internal monologue in a truly scary movie. The female answer to 'Frankie Teardrop', and frankly, I'll marry Frankie any day over this fearsome trio.

"Oh, God, where's the cigarettes? I wanna drink! Someone get me a damn drink!" Pint of blood comin' up, lady.

If I even meet The Gin Palace, I hope it's on the liberated side of a two-way mirror. Sweet dreams.

Hayley Avron

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Putting the "Ooh, that guitar's very loud" back in the blues

Bassists, get lobbying the Musicians' Union right now! Ever since The White Stripes it's been de rigeur for your local raggedy garage-blues band to boot out their hapless rhythm drone.

London trio The Gin Palace are no exception: instead, though, they have a guitarist who sounds like Link Wray wrapped in barbed wire and a singer who looks like an angry Audrey Hepburn and sings like she's spitting teeth.

Four strings or not, this is fearsome.

8/10

Pat Long

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Lady rocker vocal, guitar fuzzed and distorted, drums, no high hats or bass player. KILL-GRIEF rocks at the same speed as The White Stripes and fallout. But what’s new here is artsy fartsy London, where the group call home. The Gin Palace bring an arty weirdness that pokes through the rawness to be avant hipness. But the splash of color doesn’t dilute the rock in the least. This is as rocking a eleven minute mini CD as I’ve ever heard and then some. Meaghan Wilkie’s vocals are cool. She has a bluesy for realness and a rock star attitude like a girl Iggy. The guitar work of Jon Free is not original in the sense of style (this is garage rock, there are blueprints) but he is just rocking balls. KILL-GRIEF is a raw introduction to bigger and badder things to come and I can’t wait.

H. Barry Zimmerman

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This is how stripped down rock should be done. This EP is 11-odd minutes of pure rock savagery.

Singer Meaghan Wilke sneers and spits like a madwoman; Jon Free's guitar cuts like a switchblade; and the drummer, Stu, holds it all together with half a drum kit.

Awesome.

Neddal Ayad

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Kill-Grief doesn't give you a break. The album, containing only 7 songs, tears into you from the get go. Meaghan Wilkie, sounding like a Bikini Kill-era Kathleen Hanna, rips into brief punk rock ditties with Riot Grrrl fury and late '70s swagger. She growls, she wails, she beats to death and has you coming back for more. Kill-Grief is too many cigarettes and whiskey hangovers. Gin Palace is a band reclaiming music and fake glamour. Songs like "You Want It," "Too Much for You," and "Frantic" state the obvious and leaves the obvious behind.

Jennifer Li

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Choose music for last-minute gift giving

By Richard Carter/For the Times Record News
December 24, 2004

For gift-givers stuck on last-minute Christmas presents for their more musically daring friends or siblings, or for rock fans who just want to consider some the better alternative CD releases over the last year, here is an annotated list.

GIN PALACE "KILL-GRIEF." For devout Yeah Yeah Yeah fans, and you should be if you're not already, this English trio delivers the best 11 minutes of the year with this hard-cranking punk EP. Singer Meaghan Wilkie thrashes with major attitude, while guitarist Jon Free surfs all over the neck with conviction. This is as good as 2004 got.

 

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Combine primitivism with a cabaret style and you have The Gin Palace. The guitar is tortured to make fuzz when it’s not making a Duane Eddy twang, the drums out-simplify Meg White and Meaghan Wilkie’s vocals are theatrically flat and punk-snotty (shades of Glass Candy’s Ida No).

It’s thrashy, trashy and short (7 songs, eleven and a half minutes). Best is the snarling ‘Too Much For You’ while ‘Cool Like An Axe’ confronts you with the line “You think I’m mad?…check your own brain” over a Cramps-style rumble-beat.

More attitude than aptitude but, hey, this is punk rock.

Ged M

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"Everything in life can be summed up in just two words" - Oscar Wilde

 

ALBUM OF THE ISSUE

two-word review;

resurrect blues

 

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Fuzz Against Junk

 

My first thoughts as this hit the stereo were "Ohmigod, Babes in Toyland have reformed!"

But London's Gin Palace are too much for that, no way.

It's raucous (I love that word right now, very fitting) and it's direct -- like a javelin poked through the spokes of a speeding motorcycle. Expect tales of lust and debauchery.

Steven McDougall

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From Detroit, England, another band who neglected to list a bass player in the credits, which must really piss off bass players. But then, who needs low-end dryer lint with guitar sounds like these?

Kill-Grief was recorded at London’s legendary Gizzard Studios with everything going through a vintage Acme ShitSprayer and produced by one Edd Deegan, who I suspect is actually Ruggero Deodato. (Maybe it’s his brother Eumir playing occasional surf organ?) “You Want It” sounds like you feel after being in an inexplicable late-afternoon drunken brawl in a 7-Eleven parking lot and all the cars have mysteriously turned into Edsels and Studebakers, and you bend down to pick up your teeth and decide to start paddling, and then the ward attendant tells you to stop doing that every time they mop the dayroom.

The guitars (by Jon “I’ll drink anything if it’s” Free) are loud enough that it distracts me from Meaghan Wilkie’s voice, which at times is insufficiently squeaky for my tastes. Then again, rivers of regurgitated gastric fluid will do that to a larynx, as Australians are well aware of, being that their whole country is upside down.

The drummer is Stuart Bell, which sounds like the name of a whiskey, not gin, but then apparently this bunch are training for the Cirrhosis Cup even though they don’t have 7-Elevens over there, because in London the preferred drunken-combat venue is the Underground station, where there’s the thrilling possibility of being pushed in front of a speeding locomotive.

Another thing the guitar sounds like is the industrial hose they use for delimbing. And no, they don’t have a bass player, either because the one they once had got really drunk and fell in front of a train, or because bass players are unpopular in London garage bands lately.

Dave Queen

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Sale temps pour les bassistes puisqu'ici aussi à l'instar de The Hells, avec qui The Gin Palace partage le même label londonien Artrocker, on s'en passe très bien. Par contre contrairement aux Hells, le rock chez Gin Palace se conjugue avec un son crade. Sept chansons en dix minutes, pas le temps de respirer le propos est brûlant. Meagan chante avec toute l'énergie que lui a dôté son corps de punkette. Les guitares ne sont plus martyrisées avec des gros doigts plein de cambouis mais des doigts agiles, une musique enfin débarassée de vilains tics qui entourent trop souvent les descentes de manche dégoulinantes. N'en déplaise à certains, le rock n'est jamais paru aussi mordant et incisif que chanté par des femmes.

It's a bad time for bass players, for here's another bass-less combo, hot on the heels of our review of The Hells, and again it's from the distinguished London label Artrocker. However, unlike The Hells, rock'n'roll at Gin Palace is coupled with a raw sound. Seven songs in ten minutes, no time to breathe - it's a fierce proposition. Meaghan sings with all the energy which her punkette body can muster. The guitars are not slaughtered by huge filthy, oily hands, but rather performed with agile, nimble fingers, thankfully free of that ugly nervous habit of wanky guitar slides. Without belittling anyone else, rock'n'roll is never as corrosive and incisive as when it is sung by women.

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It's nice to have something nasty around, oozing from the speakers like slime, sneering at your neighbors, ruffling their feathers. It's nice to have around, but you might feel a tad guilty keeping it from the seedy, greasy holes-in-the-wall it was meant for. Gin Palace's filthy rock 'n' roll sound feels out of place at home. But if you got nowhere else to go, it'll take you there (to a seedy, greasy hole-in-the-wall, that is), in your head at least.

You can feel the smoky black walls of the windowless dive shake as Gin Palace open the seven-track CD with the thrashing, riotous "Too Much For You" and — riding on a thrusting rhythm and an intimidating Siouxsie sneer — for some of you, it just might be. If the Delta blues-y "Black/White" were human it would creep along on all fours, ready to strike as the menacing guitar bangs out snarling surf-ish riffs and lead singer Meaghan Wilkie sits in the corner piss-drunk, grumbling and hollering. "Lady" features a grimy blues rhythm section, shattering riffs and distant, disoriented growls from Wilkie while the closer, "Fragment," alternates between minimal, grinding repetition and full-on guitar attacks. You've heard this post-punk growl and rock 'n' roll grit before, but only a few, like Gin Palace, can deliver the real thing.

Jenny Tatone

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Tra deliri e sbornie
di
Manuela Contino

Formazione minimale per una delle nuove rivelazioni del punk made in UK. I Gin Palace sono il batterista Stuart Bell, il chitarrista Jon Free, ex membro dei Penthouse, e la cantante Meaghan Wilkie, frontwoman doc, con un allure da diva hollywoodiana anni’ 60 ma dotata di una potente ed improbabile voce, considerato il suo gentil aspetto, un po’ stile L7, un po’ Courtney Love nei suoi ruggiti migliori.
Il trio è una delle ultime band prodotte dall’Artrocker Records di Londra - che testa i nuovi talenti musicali al Buffalo Bar, buio ed interrato locale di sua proprietà, che ha visto al debutto band come Yeah Yeah Yeahs o D4 - e considerata trampolino di lancio delle rivelazioni punk e rock che approdano nel Regno Unito e non solo, dal momento che ha recentemente aperto una sede anche a New York.
Kill-grief, che per l’esattezza è un minialbum, reinventa nell’arco di una sfuriata di 11 minuti e sette canzoni, le sonorità garage blues dei primi anni ‘70 e quelle del vigoroso punk rock rumoroso ed essenziale, cronologicamente di poco più tardo. Sembra che i nostri abbiano respirato aria di Detroit, andando a lezione di suoni graffianti dagli Stooges e provando avversione verso bassisti e batterie troppo complete e sofisticate come i White Stripes insegnano.
Negli inserti, tipicamente rockabilly, ricordano i The Cramps, privati delle loro macabre psicosi, mentre nel loro essere diretti e grezzi nell’attitudine, fanno tornare alla mente le Babes in Toyland e gli elettrici e scatenati Mooney Suzuki.
Tutte le tracce contenute in questo mini-album testimoniano quanto il loro suono sia viscerale e turbolento, arrabbiato e deviato nella giusta misura. In Too much for you, la chitarra alterna accordi blues ad acerbi e ruvidi riff puramente r’n’r. La spiazzante Black/white prosegue su quella linea rallentando il ritmo quasi come fosse in una jam session e la voce di Meaghan si trascina rantolante. Toni distorti e provocanti per You want it e aspri ed intimidatori per Lady. In coda un aggregato di suoni sporchi al limite della decenza, per i 43 secondi di Frantic.
Kill-Grief è solo un assaggio di ciò che sa fare una band destinata a piacere, considerati anche gli ottimi presupposti: musicisti abili e indiavolati ed una punk lady che sa ben giocare il suo ruolo da femme fatale arrabbiata, memore delle lezioni di tante impunite signorine che l’hanno preceduta. A breve (si dice in primavera), l’uscita del vero e proprio album di esordio.
Attendiamo impazienti.

 

Between delirium and drunkennesss by Manuela Contino

Formation minibadly for one of the new detections of the punk made in UK. The Gin Palace is drummer Stuart Bell, guitarist Jon Free, former member of Penthouse, and singer Meaghan Wilkie, frontwoman doc, with the allure of a '60s Hollywood diva but equipped with an improbably powerful voice, considered its gentil aspect, in the style of L7, or Courtney Love in its better roars. The trio is one of the latest bands produced from Artrocker Records of London - than head new talents musical to Buffalo Bar, buio and buried local of its property, that it has seen to the debut band like Yeah Yeah Yeahs or D4 - and is considered the springboard to launch of the detections punk and rock that they not only land in United Kingdom and, from the moment that has recently opened one center also to New York. Kill-grief, than for the exactitude is a minialbum, reinvents in the space of 11 furious minutes and seven songs, the garage blues sound of the early '70s and those of vigorous punk rock noisy and essential, little the chronological latest one. It seems that they have breathed air of Detroit, going to lesson of sounds scratching from the Stooges and trying complete and too much sophisticated aversion towards bassisti and batteries as the White Stripes teaches. Negli inserti, typically rockabilly, remembers the The Cramps, private delle they macabre psychosis, while nel they to be direct and crude nell' attitude, the Babes in Toyland and the electrical workers make to return alla mind and trigger to you Mooney Suzuki. All the contained traces in this mini-album testify how much their sound visceral and turbulent, angry and must in the just measure. In Too Much For You, the alternate guitar comes to an agreement pure blues to sour and rough riff r' n' r. The spiazzante Black/white nearly continues on that line slowing down the rhythm as it was in a jam session and the voice of Meaghan drags rantolante. Distorted and provoking for You Want It and sour and intimidating tones for Lady. In tail an aggregate of dirty sounds to the limit of the decency, for the 43 second ones of Frantic. Kill-Grief is only an assay of that it knows to make a band destined it appeal to, considers also the optimal ones you presupposed: musicians skillful and indiavolati and a punk lady that he very knows to play its fatal role from femme angry, memore of the lessons of many impunite Misses who have preceded it. Too short (he says himself in spring), the escape of true and just the album of debut. We attend impazienti.

temporary babelfish translation

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The Gin Palace is a trio that delivers their desolate, punishing rock n roll straight from London. Meaghan Wilkie delivers vocals, Jon Free is on guitars, and Stuart Bell handles the 'minimal drum kit.' These guys are into the concept that less is more. Strip shit down and see what it does at the most basic level. This album goes by in a little over eleven minutes and if you don¹t pay attention, you just might miss it.

I enjoyed the tracks 'Too Much For You' and 'Black/White' thoroughly as they kick some wicked guitars that sound like the beach if it was scattered with beer bottles and destruction rather than cancer absorbing yuppies. Meaghan's vocals are straight rugged and bubbling with attitude. The minimal drum kits works pretty damn well, considering it is, well, minimal. 'Lady' is pure fun and hearing Meaghan Wilkie curse while she searches for beers, smokes, and her shoes makes the whole listening experience worthwhile. 'Frantic' lives up to its name and will have you stomping your feet to the beat and distortion. If you have ADD, I highly recommend this album. However, because of the length of this album the decision to buy should really be based on the cost of the album. If you can get it for a fiver, I say go for it.

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When rating any garage rock album, a few obligatory steps must be taken. First, the reviewers must mention the sickening number of retro rats clogging the drains of mainstream music (example: in today's music climate, garage-rock ensembles are being mass-produced as quickly as reality TVs show, and with the same uneven quality). Check. Second, the reviewer must explain why said act, (a) follows the same path as every other pomade-slick garage group from Detroit/New York/Sweden, or (b), is the most ass-slappingest troupe of dapper dandies since the ravishing early material of Red Aunts. Luckily for this reviewer, Gin Palace render these rating guidelines useless by skanking through songs that are simultaneously redundant and refreshing on new EP Kill-Grief. Allow me to explain: Kill-Grief packs in more genre stereotypes than a Vegas re-creation of CBGBs, but does so in such a smack-soaked, crude, cocksure way, that it don't fucking matter none. Intimidating vocalist Meaghan Wilkie rattles off the semi-meaningless beatnik banter Karen O apparently transcended after penning 'Maps', berating unspecified males and caterwauling offhandedly, "where's a cigarette?" the backing music represents what very well could result if Meg White had any dexterity to match her cosmetic-only presence on the skins. Skuzzy and sleazier than that kid in grade school who would eat Band-Aids for a quarter. Kill-Grief is an all-too-brief jaunt that flaunts much guant(sic), and could be the fuse that eventually ignites a superb career.

Grant Purdum

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But does she waste alcohol onstage, for effect, the way Karen O does? Can The Gin Palace's Meaghan Wilkie cry at the microphone for a video shoot? I think she's probably more Jim Morrison than O, giving life to her skin and a bonfire to her senses. She'd be too tough to cry, as evidenced on these seven songs of dark, cool art-punk, and her lyrical bitchiness are (sic) good for business

SM

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