Riskee and the Ridicule et Carsick

Dear Listener, we’re in charge; not you. Riskee & the Ridicule smash through the speakers on their latest offering, Blame Culture, to tell us in no uncertain terms that they have something to say and we’re going to effing listen. This is the Kent quartet’s newest release, following up their 2014 critically-acclaimed debut, Dawn Of The Dog.

An awful lot has changed since the band’s first album and these guys aren’t afraid to tell you quite how aware of this they are. They don’t care if their ferocity intimidates you; as Riskee tells us on “Molotov Cocktails”, “I never got into this game to be liked for my words.”

While the UK continued to reel from the result of the EU referendum, the band had already acted on it, with Blame Culture ready for release on 6th January. The band’s understanding of the wider cultural, ideological and political challenges ahead led them to share “Colours”, the spoken word piece nestled between tracks 10 and 11, on the day of the Women’s March, following Trump’s inauguration. Riskee & the Ridicule know that now is the time to stand up and fight the numerous poisons breeding in Western society.

Awareness of the current socio-political landscape aside, Blame Culture is crammed with grime-punk bangers that can’t fail to make Dear Listener jump up and dance. Riskee (Scott Picking) has a determined sharpness of tone, cynical and sarcastic, akin to Scroobius Pip. On “Banger” he’s not worried about whether future challenges will be overcome, “We won’t make do with what we’ve got cos what we ain’t got we will get. No sweat.”

Blame Culture’s upbeat punk, and at times even venturing into indie-disco, mix should eliminate the band’s concerns on “Drown” about whether they are commercially relevant. This album moves genres forward and even generates fresh ones, soldering sharp-tongued quips on to a well-oiled rhythm and guitar section (Jimbo Aglony, guitar, David Thomas, bass and Matt Verrell, drums). There’s just a hint of teenage angst about Blame Culture, and something almost pointing towards the 10 Things I Hate About You era. Neither of these are bad things, this is angst for grown-ups. Let’s face it; that’s pretty much where we’re all at right now.

There’s no filler on this album, with tracks like “Running on Air” and “Hipster” carrying instant anthems. Riskee & the Ridicule also aren’t afraid to move into slightly darker soundscapes with “Backwords” and “Daddy’s Boots,” pushing more of the lyrical content, favouring wordplay and dense wordscapes, instead of trying to have you sing along. These guys are feeling positive about their future, despite the current outlook, and they’re inviting the world to join them as they tell us on “Party,” “If life throws you a curve ball then make it a learning curve.”

As the results of the US election were announced, some of us joked about battening down the hatches and sitting the next four years out. After all, by then the effects of Brexit would be laid out for all to see. Others saw the fear and devastation of those whose rights are jeopardised, and reminded us how lucky we are. The wisest warned us that the only way out of this mess is to stop assuming sense prevails and called us to action. Thank goodness Riskee & the Ridicule are here to lead the way. After all, as they demand on “Nobody Likes Us”, “You don’t tell us when we’re finished/We tell you lot when we’re finished.”