Republic of Loose

"16 tracks of musical crossovers, boundry free and raw" - The Sunday Times

" the most precious cargo they've ever carried on their most thrilling ride yet.....unlike anything else you'll experience from an Irish band in 2010. Or '11, '12, '13', '14'..." - RTE

“they’re a cross between the Happy Mondays and Sly & The Family Stone.” NME

- NME

Mick Pyro makes a very legitimate point on Republic of Loose's 2004 debut, This Is The Tomb of the Juice. During two minute skit 'F*ck Everybody', he verbally spars with a tipsy lady accusing his band of 'wanting to be American' and quite rightly retorts with: 'I'm bombarded every-motherf*ckin-day with American sh*t, you sayin' I can't take a piece of that pie and use it in my own sh*t?'. In other words, detractors of the 'Loose will have to level a much more factual allegation if they're to provoke a reaction from the Dubliners. If 'Tomb' was an impertinent yet green-around-the-gills introduction to the Republic of Loose, the independently released follow-up, Aaagh!, is its slick, streetwise cousin who has all the answers to your questions and will pop a cap in your ass if you don't like them. If there's any justice in the world, this is the album that should see RoL make the transformation from scruffy bums to scruffy megastars. It takes their unique style - a fusion of hip-hop, rap, rock, reggae and soul - and brings it to a new plateau; one that's sleek, impeccably-produced, superbly-crafted and terrifically, inspiringly innovative. Chock-full of funky basslines, intricate riffs and enough attitude to terrify a tracksuit (new collective noun) of gurriers, Aaagh! flits from slinky r 'n' b (The Translation) to incitements of 80s synth-pop (Somebody Screamed) and Jamaican Dancehall/ragga (Na Na Na Na Na Na), while catchy retro ditty Mary Caine could quite reasonably soundtrack The Kids of Degrassi Street. Break! is like nothing they've ever done before; a throbbing latino/flamenco assault that's interspersed with both a female vocalist's shrill refrain and Pyro's sleazy riposte of 'You like it rough, right?' Indeed, Aaagh! is a sleaze-filled minefield and abounds with tales of temptresses, sexual encounters and promiscuity. The thing is, Pyro's soulful, wiseguy croon is so charmingly coarse that he just about gets away with opening lines like 'Now you're scratchin' your balls, it's 'round a quarter to three..'. His voice, evoking shades of Prince, Michael Jackson, Al Green and even Howlin' Wolf at times, has come into its own here; and with a band providing such accomplished, polished backing tracks, it's given ample opportunity to. The singles in particular leave a marked effect; the streetwise funk-pop of Comeback Girl, the old-skool soul of Shame and the sleek production of You Know It epitomise both the diversity and competence on display here. There's so much activity on Aaagh! - productionally and musically - that when the tempo/quality eventually does wane, (Parasite, The Evening), it's an inconsequential blip. Forget the lame comparisons, forget the 'wannabe-American' jibes; if there's a better Irish album released this year, I'll eat my iPod. - Entertainment.IE

12 Apr 2006

Debased Dubliners Republic Of Loose return, here serving up their second smorgasbord of gourmet sleaze for your delectation. What more could a poor boy ask for in a time of plenty?

Coming on like an even more sex-obsessed Prince, the aptly titled Aaagh is a wonderfully gutteral romp. It opens with a brilliantly funny and apparently spontaneous rap on the genesis of the album title that acts as a kind of statement of intent – and from there on, it’s all impressively, unashamedly scatalogical. There are tracks on Aaagh that would make even Har Mar Superstar blush: just listen to the filthy humour of ‘I’m Greedy’, a song which inhabits a league of revulsion all its very own.

In this world, sex is almost always an option. However, this is much more than a collection of smut-talking serenades. ‘Somebody Screamed’ achieves the equilibrium between rich absurdism and human frailty – not an easy trick. Indeed the surface lyrical juvenilia may fool the casual listener, for Republic of Loose exhibit a musical maturity that far exceeds the capabilities of the vast majority of their more serious-minded contemporaries.

Beguiling, intuitive melodies form the basis of the superbly constructed songs, on what is a uniformly excellent – and curiously refined – record. Merging soul refrains, bad-ass blues and rock guitars in a seamless, invigorating whole, Aaagh is a perniciously addictive listen. The Irish hit single, ‘Comeback Girl’, in which lead singer Mick Pyro comes over almost smoochy, has a pop insidiousness that coats the innuendo-laden lyrics in just the right amount of honey. The thudding arrangements and guitar strut of ‘Break!’, bring to mind The Neptunes on a song which sees Republic of Loose getting their dirty groove on. The bastardised jive reaches its peak with ‘You Know It’, a blast of irrepressible, scuzzy soul, frenetic bass riffs and burbling beats – Republic of Loose forging scorching pop magma out of these base elements.

Grotesque, lyrical, touching and damn humorous, by turn, the grubby allure of Aaagh is hard to resist. Let’s get it on.

Francis Jones
Rating: 9 / 10
- Hotpress

Michael Pyro is a very sick man. As the singer points out several times during tonight's set, he had two asthma attacks on his way from Dublin to Belfast. "I should be dead, not that you lot would care" he rasps, puffing away and getting the medicinal vino rosso in.

The illness reigns him in, a little. But only when you compare tonight to the insanity we're used to with Mick - a preacher man demanding we testify, slamming the mic against his skull, body-popping and spasmodically jerking across the stage. Tonight's slightly reserved performance only reminds us how amazing this band actually is.

Behind the sleaze and the drama, this is a gang of incredible musicians. Those bass riffs sound even more mammoth than on record, and the duelling guitarists play with a delicate touch, just to emphasize the funk.

‘Aaagh’ sets the scene - all bouncy bass and cheeky Hammond organ, but it's not until we hear the opening bars of ‘Break’ that everyone finally gets their freak on. Their best recorded moment to date, ‘Break’ is everything we love about this band, in three wonderful minutes. Musically, it's referencing the west coast, proudly ripping off Justin Timberlake and Pharell Williams, but full of the type of filthy lyric we expect, ne demand from that impressively potty-mouthed front man. And those foxy backing singers are really getting their moment, and rightly so. They're getting more American by the minute.

Then it's ‘Comeback Girl’, and all hell breaks loose down the front. In fact, it's beginning to annoy us now that more people aren't here to see this. Granted, we all appreciate how Republic Of Loose can actually be an offensive concept to some - fans will even claim that's actually part of their charm. But still….where were you all?

‘Hold Up’ then - proper madness. Mick seems to have forgotten his problems and is now marching about the stage, egging us on. Like everyone here, he's celebrating how an amazing band have got better. A surprisingly graceful cover of the Rolling Stones is our encore and Mick stumbles offstage, quite literally on the hunt for terbutaline sulphate.

Everyone leaves smiling, getting off on what they’ve seen, but slightly irked at a half empty venue, that mates have missed this, that Belfast isn't paying enough attention.

America is waiting though, surely. If the 'Loose do things properly across that ocean, an entire nation honestly won't know what's hit them.

Rigsy
Republic of Loose, The Empire, Belfast, 21.05.06 - ATL - BBC Northern Ireland

Dubliners' debut has sleaze and spirit, says Campbell Stevenson.

Sunday May 23, 2004
The Observer


The argument about whether white men could sing the blues was put to rest a long time ago. This five-piece Dublin gang pose a wider question: can they also do gospel, rap, Sly Stone grooves and dirty funk - all at the same time? Republic of Loose, who thankfully have changed name and some personnel since they were known as Johnny Pyro and the Rock Coma, can answer this one in the affirmative - mostly. Their pedestrian moments, which are rare, operate in sub-Alabama 3 or Fun Lovin' Criminals territory; at their finest they cross the decades, splicing OutKast and the Stones in songs that rely on pure feel while still containing surprises. This is an album for people who regularly sleep until the afternoon.
Last year's single, 'Girl I'm Gonna Fuck You Up', is a crystalline summary of all that's best here. Dark lyrics that ignite into a sweet and tuneful chorus, followed by an impassioned finale where singer Michael Pyro launches into his best Jagger falsetto. This is the song that would have made Some Girls one of the finest Stones albums.

Pyro's vocals grab the attention first. They're packed with confidence, but that admirable quality can be overcooked: listen to him emote every gospel cliche - 'Oh Lords' and 'Sweet Jesuses' abound - and you begin to long for the simplicity of atheism. And while he has sackloads of swagger, sometimes he's singing the parts rather than living in them; it's then that his desire to squeeze everything into a song lends an air of pastiche rather than authenticity. But you've got to forgive anyone who can sing: 'Oh mama if I had a gun/ I would surely be your son/ Dum diddy dum dum, no fun.'

The best pop track, 'Tell More Lies' (try Steely Dan playing 'Beat It'), stands out for its playful inventiveness, both musical and lyrical ('You want to believe all the answers/ And you want to find a cure for cancers') while the best groove ('Ride with Us') manages to be sinister, sleazy and abjectly miserable.

This is a strong, satisfying debut album, whose eclecticism is a strength and a weakness. It has that blend of sacred and profane that gave early rock'n roll such power.
- Observer Music Monthly

'We're Irish and we should get over it - that's what they've been telling us,' runs the Republic of Loose 'manifesto', such as it is. Then defiantly adds: 'We're going under it.'

Indeed they are. The Dublin five piece (named after member Benjamin Loose) must surely be one of the most promisingly ... wrong thinks to have emerged from Eire since beef boiled in Guinness. Theirs is a sound so underground they probably wear headlamps in the studio - a mix of Tom Waits' hobo blues, the ho-gloss soul of Hall and Oates, skronky art-funk, Screamin' Jay Hawkins' bug-eyed boogaloo, the falsetto-fuelled disco of Sylvester, post-punk, Fun Lovin' Criminals stoner cabaret, Steely Dan's pop fusion and... the funk-metal balladry of The Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Odd the Republic are in thrall to my third least favourite thing of all time (after brussel sprouts and Ben Elton) and yet they're still My New Favourite Band. Debut album 'This Is The Tomb Of The Juice' (Big Cat) is so chunky with socio-personal ruminations you could slice it. 'Rant' is just that, an interlude featuring a heroically bladdered Republican (presumably vocalist Dave Pyro) being berated by an equally bladdered woman for 'wanting to be American'. It's priceless. And - whether real or staged - slyly, wryly pertinent. See 'em before they go global.

Sharon O'Connell
- Time Out

"A celebration of the physical/spiritual wild thing. Other bands bluster, Republic of Loose blister"

- The Irish Times

"The funk-soul classic they've always threatened to make" - Sunday Business Post 4/5

"This is a record that recognizes no frontiers, The Loose have evidenced more musical personality and wit then most bands parcel out over an entire career" 9/10 - Alternative Ulster

"Another cracking record from probably the best band in Ireland" 4/5
- Sunday Tribune

'A slice of Sleazy funk-soul that sounds like a seedy Hall & Oats produced by Pharrell Williams' - The Times UK