Royal Headache Royal Headache

Without even the slightest warning, it just starts. There’s no need to build a tonic chord in Royal Headache’s career opener Never Again – it does, however, set the groove with a hulking rhythm section that hurtles full-throttle without concerning itself with coming to a complete stop before it hits red. And out of nowhere appears a glandular set of pipes, courtesy of bandleader Shogun, hastily evoking as much emotion as he can in the little amount of space that’s been provided to him in those quick-fire verses. He tries to keep up and, somehow, manages to keep his cool in its rousing finale.

Shogun’s vocals have been the focal point in distinguishing Royal Headache from other contemporary garage rock outfits. Pulling apart his natural set of pipes from other Caucasian soulmen has become a bit of a guessing game. Which, instead of creating any confusion, should reinforce the argument that his vocals sound like Shogun instead of anyone else’s. By fusing punk and retro-pop sensibilities with a noiseless blues-rock tone, the Australian foursome capably backs Shogun’s fondness for falsetto hooks.

The normative for pop-inclined punk bands is to emphasize sneering wrinkles of aggression alongside catchy melodies and bold feelings – in their case, the kinetic energy that’s present is loosely obscured with a crummy production. But Shogun steps it up by being a little more literate than your typical dashboard confessor. For someone who names himself after a fearless leader, it appears that love is the one weakness that could put his personal empire into conflict. Over a Buzzcocks-resounding chord interplay, an anguished Shogun details on Psychotic Episode, I went to see a doctor/ felt like a helicopter/ he told me “Shogun, I think the symptoms will get worse, and this in the time lapse of mere seconds. All these lyrical quips are found throughout, and become all the more amusing when discovered with multiple spins.

Most of the momentum Royal Headache builds up is occasionally disrupted by a couple of routine instrumentals, and some of the melodies are so tightly wound as to be indistinguishable. There are inspired moments, like in Pity, in which a vicious, albeit barely perceptible, tremolo strum circles into its fuzzed-out final stretch. These are trifling observations for a band whose evidently going beyond the motions, making the effort to merge a mélange of mod generation exuberance and frolicky rhythm and blues, as the birth of rock n’ roll originally intended. And boy, as pristine as Shogun’s vocal quality is, a higher fidelity will really bolster his already-impressive delivery. It’d be a stretch to tag them as soul revivalists, but there’s no denying these combustible pop tunes are still 26 of the most promising minutes you’ll hear all year.