Cacklefest!

by The Hangmen

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Cacklefest! CD album, factory pressed original full quality from master c/w full colour artwork throughout - 8 page lyric booklet, disc tray, outer and inner in a jewel case with artwork by Paskal Millet protected in cellophane wrap.
    Downloads are very convenient but the real fan and collector deserves the goods in their hand so here's your chance.
    PLUS with this CD offer you still get the album download, immediately when you order the CD - to play while you wait for delivery in the mail.
    PLUS it comes with a bonus 'Nightmares In a Damaged Brain' video download, which you don't get with the download only version.
    PLUS you get an extra track on the CD which isn't on the download only version.
    Finally - this deal won't be around for ever...
    This is a limited offer.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Cacklefest! via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days
    edition of 200 

      £6.99 GBP

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Other currencies converted automatically.
    Also includes individual track art using rare photographs and artwork.
    ...or for just £1 why not upgrade to include the CD album by mail and Nightmares In a Damaged Brain video download? - You get the album download AND the video instantly THEN the CD which includes full colour lyric booklet arrives in the mail which ALSO has an extra track to the download version! Scroll up to order...

      £5.99 GBP

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 5 The Hangmen releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Necronomicon EP, Exhumed & Groomed, Play Dead, No Happy Endings, and Cacklefest!. , and , .

      £13.23 GBP or more (50% OFF)

     

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about

The bands fastest and best selling album was a much awaited return to studio album recording which rubber stamped their existing credibility.
As usual, all originals played raw and straight down the line - no gimmicks detract from this powerful collection of well crafted works.
Went straight into No.4 on the worldwide Psychobilly album charts on release.
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Label Press Release:

The long awaited new studio album from Psychobilly renegades The Hangmen.
Cacklefest delivers 14 all original tracks certain to delight their cult fanbase accumulated over 15 years, six previous albums and relentless live forays across the UK, Europe and North America, as well as the rising new generation of Punk, Rockabilly and Psychobilly hybrid devotees.
Sounds like a riot, the tunes are both accomplished and diverse and the songwriting superbly deranged.

A dark, wild and punked up Rock 'n' Roll concoction of spare monster parts, pieces of crashed dragsters and Voodoo artefacts. Definitely one for the 'play loud' crowd.
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Reviews:

The Hangmen, the most independent of Psychobilly bands have come up with a no compromise killer of an album. The song writing is clever and hard hitting as it writhes about festering in the gutter, but look again it's not spluttering it's death cackle, it's revelling in its position as the lowest common denominator in musical genres. There are no taboos with The Hangmen, it's all here, murder, death and mental health issues covered in unsavoury vocal style, delivered on the back of a jack hammer double bass driven beat and guitar to make your ears bleed. 'Rotten To The Bone' proclaims the cover, you can't argue with that, decomposition never sounded so good.
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The Hangmen are back with their long awaited new album Cacklefest. This is an onslaught of mutilated Punk, Rock 'n' Roll and Psychobilly, true to the Hangmen style. Cacklefest will definitely impress the avid fan. From the first track you are launched into a sick and twisted world supported by heavy riffs and Loz's gravely tones. "Bad Medicine" gives you chance for a breather before the relentless pace continues. "Wake up, smell the nitro" pays a contagious little homage to Drag Racing at Santa Pod, definitely one for all you Wrench reading petrol heads out there. This album will gnaw its way into your brain, proving the Hangmen are well and truly back with a vengeance!
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I've been waiting for Cacklefest for days.
Each morning has found me looking out the window and watching the postman beat a path to my door with a fistful of bills, but sans CD.
The result being that the anticipation has been rising as fast as the pile of unpaid bills.
Anticipation is a double edged sword though. On one hand it can get the juices flowing and set the scene for what's next. While on the other it can raise expectation so high that failure to deliver on what's promised becomes increasingly likely.
Make no mistake. It can be a headfuck. I've been guilty of letting it rise and rise in the past. Just to find that a good album can sound pretty pedestrian when measured against the unrealistic expectations.

So now that Cacklefest has finally arrived, and with this thought bouncing around inside my head, it was with a bit of trepidation that I slipped the disc on.

I needn't have worried though. As the last track played out and I pressed the play button again I found myself completely satisfied with it.

Opening with "Godkilla" The Hangmen throw down the gauntlet and set the pace with a track that's a primal howl of loathing for everything. A gut wrenching punk hymn.
"Rainy Day in Paradise" keeps the needle bouncing in the red with an unflinching overview on how trying to fit in can ultimately lead to mental anguish.
"Firewalker" is the first real rock and roll track on the album and will please many of the old school fans, but it's with "Bad Medicine" where they take their foot off the pedal a bit that they shine. It's a killer track. Evocative lyrics and if anyone wants to put out a single then look no further.
"Take it to the Grave" takes a step back and revisits the classic Hangmen sound with Loz rattling out couplets like there is no tomorrow. Another belter.
The next song "Nightmare in a damaged brain" is the first out and out psychobilly track on the album. One that will have some of the recently converted 'billy's and 'betties pissing their panties. It's not popabilly kids. It's the real deal.
"Goodbye Coffin Joe" marks the halfway spot and still there is no sign of this album flagging. All killa and no filla as da kids would say.
Maybe it's the length of time since the last album that has allowed them to keep pushing the material, moulding it, perfecting it. Whatever it is, it's worked for them. "Graveyard Songs" Sounds like they have resurrected Bon Scott to sit down with Steve Earle and write a song with Loz looking over their shoulder to add his tuppence worth in. When he says "I'm a bad muther fucker and I don't mind dying" you get the impression that he means it.
"Got nobody, lost your head" gets all punky on us, and reminds me of a dirtier and more street sounding "someone is going to get their head kicked in tonight"
On first listen to "Hells' Bells" I wasn't really sure what I made of it. It's a dark funeral march for most of it and then it's all hell for leather country twang. The second time out of the gates it really grabs you, but it's the first track on the album that doesn't jump up on first listen. As is usual it will probably be the one that will get revisited the most.
Back to basics with "demonsemen" and nowt to do with the song itself, but funnily enough a spell check keeps wanting to change it to Demon semen. Gives the lines "You got demons hanging off you, and demons locked inside" a whole new meaning. Enough of that though. This is another highlight from the album, and another contendor as a single track. As is "Wake up and smell the nitro".
I've always considered The Hangmen to be an album band, but damn if this one hasn't got enough tracks to keep everyone in 7"s and splits till their next full length.
The penultimate track "Zero Worship" is prime social commentary. Who says that it has to be all graveyards and blood sucking zombies? Oh, and it rocks like a motherfucker to, even if it does owe a huge debt to Mr Kilminster.
"Sick fuck comic book" finishes on a relentless note and as tongue twisters go I don't think there will be many takers to sing along at gigs. You have to hear it to believe it.
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As an opening line to a song 'Firstly I would like to thank all the two faced *****s who got the **** out of my life' darmn well takes some following, but The Hangmen in 'Got Nobody and Lost Your Head' do so relentlessly. That epitomous moment is worth the price of this album on its own, yet ALL of the tracks on this album are remarkable and quotable. Splendidly put together and drenched in an enraged psychotic angst that most bands half their age could never aspire to no matter how many tattoos, piercings and anti-social issues they affect. This is a powerful reminder that danger and challenge still lurk in Rock & Roll.
So lets just confirm this is not background music. It demands and gets your attention and leaves you wanting more. You will probably not hear anything else like it.
Guitar, drums and double bass - a 3 piece line up making a hell of a full sound throughout, with only the help of a sax outro on one track. Rocketing (mostly) tunes with no two sounding alike, it's easy to label the music brand as 'psychobilly' but when confronted with something like this it's also easy to picture a puzzled look amongst followers of that genre. A look like that on some unlucky kid whose cereal box doesnt contain a free plastic monster. There are real but no plastic monsters here. There are no cliches, soundalikes, or following of the rank and file.
A rockabilly band with its punk genes running riot is one way of viewing it, but in all honesty its more than that. There is an unholy substance to every song and tune. Listening to this in the horror punk camp would be like screening The Texas Chainsaw Massacre after Carry On Screaming.
Each number will have you grabbing the lyric booklet, each time you get to the end you will leave it in the player and hit play again. It isnt pleasant but it is exhilarating.
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credits

released June 6, 2007

PPL: Performer 0103012167

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about

The Hangmen England, UK

Veteran underground 'cult' band shooting punk rock n' roll ammo using Psychobilly hardware.

Slogging countless loud sweaty gigs and tours across the UK, Europe & North America with a prolific self-penned repertoire of dark , raw devils music that spans eight albums to date, The Hangmen are for the 'Play Loud' crowd with a canny knack for never repeating themselves, or anyone else.
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Track Name: Godkilla
I like hiding away and looking at them when they can't see me. I like going the wrong way, and screaming blue murder into my TV. I like wearing your skin when talking jibber jabber to the neighbours kids, and I like nothing. One of these days I'm going to sew up all your eyelids.
Godkilla...good God.
I want to spit on the throne, they'll cut out my tongue but they know that I'm right. And I want to be left alone having stole the silver spoon from Princess Parasite.
Godkilla...good dog.
I wish people everywhere hated themselves as much as I hate them, and I wish they were never there. They turn my stomach and they raise my phlegm.
Godkilla...Polyfilla...Godkilla...good God.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Rainy Day In Paradise
She signed out of the hospital and looked around, dragging her dignity along the ground. Time for society to get the truth, the bitter by-product of a misled youth.
The world and the woman came fact to face - she was a raging mental case, the world itself one fucked up place called Paradise.
The stand off didn't last very long, look at this picture everything's wrong. Both sides wounded, one got a medic, one in the gutter with a screaming headache.
Her fashion clothes, her diet pills, her quest for a mate and a role to fill, her make-up box and her household skills made her feel like an imbecile.
So she had the audacity to take a swipe at the program written for her stereotype. Her face would never sell magazines, she had unfashionable genes.
Her hair now white and her teeth now brown, she saw red as the black rained down, barefoot she staggers in a grey ward gown through Paradise.
Tears, blood, piss now reign in Paradise.
Bile, shit, rains down on Paradise.
Know this, so lost is Paradise.
Their spit brought rain on Paradise.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Firewalker
You can't come with me I'm a firewalker. Those who do have gotta believe they can. No passenger room for idle talkers. You can't come where you don't understand.
Got cold feet? Stick to familiar streets maybe someone will carry you a while.
Choose the journey not the destination, or when you're a forgotten pile of bone know it was not my gesticulation - the hand that led you back was just your own.
I don't follow signs, each step is mine - every burning step of every mile.
I'm a firewalker.
Judge me when you've walked a mile in my shoes. Fools stand still where angels fear to tread. Dream of new horizons and you will lose. But you don't understand a word I've said.
Your way will twist and turn 'cos you're afraid to burn. Did you wave? Do you see how I smile?
I'm a firewalker, walk on fire.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Bad Medicine
Woke up dead, fumbled in the grass through the bitey bugs, through the broken glass. On an aching back staring at the sun, throat on fire, loaded like a gun.
Drank the bottle dry then like before pulled out the cork, somehow there'll be more. Some for the rich, some for the poor.
Bad Medicine, kill and cure.
Sitting up straight, nose starts to bleed. Staring at the label, nothing there to read. Measure up the dosage, think you got it right. Add another measure. Double it for spite.
Burns like acid, fumes melt the eyes, gives you rigor mortis, doesn't stop the lies. Hallucinating stops, eardrums explode.
Bad Medicine, one for the road.
Speak a whole new language, need it now because I walked another day back to where I was.
Anyone try the treatment? Anyone try the pill? Why this medication? Were we ever ill?
Mixing up the potion, seeing lots of snakes. Use it like a lotion if you can stop the shakes.
Hang on to your whiskers, hang on to your hide.
Bad Medicine, open wide.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Take It To The Grave
Hit the dust, twist and bust, rise from the ashes, in no Gods trust, never sit down, curse this day, watch your back but never what you say.
Blow all minds, slam all doors, stop at nothing to start more wars, take a wrong turn, crash and burn, take it to the grave.
Bleed it dry, hit a new high, spit in a face, be unsatisfied, shoot it all up, put it all down, run up more bills get run out of town, pedal to the floor, rotten to the core, dial the same wrong number twenty times or more, find a bridge to burn, never wait your turn, take it to the grave.
Find a snake pit, shake it, stomp your feet and wake it, take it live and bake it, drag it to your cave.
Hate it, break it, throttle it and fake it, take it naked or you'll never make it to the grave.
Did you find your Hell? Did you make it down? Did you make it up while you were sat around?
Don't stick it out, kick it out, nothing to get sick about.
Take it to the grave.
Just take it.


CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Nightmares In A Damaged Brain
Like the disembodied voices say we are a long time dead.
Hiding wet under the blankets smell the sweet rot as it spreads.
You can't control the dead, cry baby for the dawn it's nothing like they said, wish you were never born.
When the dreams were grand enough to shake you did you see them coming then?
Nightmares in a damaged brain.
Screeching at them as they float by could you ever comprehend? Hold them in behind the eyelids tightly clenched for nights on end.
The faces they blend, wish you were struck blind. Broken gears grind.
Pray your screams are loud enough to wake you but you know they'll come again.
Nightmares in a damaged brain.
Ah welcome, welcome you've been expected. Let me compliment you on this landscape you have conjured, your name for it 'Hell' such a pretty name. And honoured are we that you the creator of this masterpiece is finally joining it. Wait - there is nowhere to run here. It'll never let you leave, never let you leave, not now. Come this way, this way. It's all behind you now. Behind you. It's time, our time, for all time. No, mustn't. No.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Goodbye Coffin Joe
Not one friend among the living, deaths accomplice unforgiving. Well I've made you a box just as long as you're tall - a bottom and a lid and six side walls.
Goodbye goodbye Coffin Joe. Down in the cold bad ground you go. As you reap so you shall sew, goodbye Coffin Joe.

No one stepped inside that place, not one smile ventured his face. Only when the prayers were left far behind did he want to pay you any mind.

No one wanted what he knew, all the evil that men do. So we're left with a job that must be done. A cry that will reach out to everyone.

Goodbye goodbye Coffin Joe, goodbye.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Graveyard Songs
You wanna listen better know what I am. A high Sheriff sent from Hell.
The motherfucker riding zig-zag lightning down the middle of the Panama Canal. Now I'm known from the coast of Maine to the coasts of Spain, out on that Golden Gate bridge you can see my goddamn name.
I always confer with two .45s on my side, I was baptised in a barrel of butchers knives. The sting of sorrows whipcane done marked my hide, a rattlesnake bit me and that motherfucker crawled off and died.
I sing graveyard songs and I aint lyin' I'm a bad motherfucker and I don't mind dyin'.
The drink I like best is hydrochloric acid, and I keep me some around. I pissed on a fireproof bomb shelter, burned that motherfucker down.
May as well get shitty right on down to the bone, I beat three murder cases before I was grown. I'm the baddest motherfucker that you ever seen, worse than a fucking nighmare in a midnight dream.
I sing graveyard songs and I aint lyin' I'm a bad motherfucker and I don't mind dyin'.
I hunt trouble every day of my life. Peace and quiet I do despise. I've bolted down lightning, captured thunder and done some shit that made this whole world wonder.
And I don't measure much across my chest but I don't fear a goddamn thing between life and death.
I'm a .38 special on a .45 frame, I shoot tombstone bullets - ball and chain.
I sing graveyard songs and I aint lyin' I'm a bad motherfucker and I don't mind dyin'.
When I go home I walk forty four miles of barbed wire. When I go out I use a cobra snake for a necktie.
And if I don't start some serious shit by noon my whole fucking day seems kind of dull.
You can lay down your guns cos I'll win the fight, I can eat a wild gorilla from asshole to appetite.
I built my house high on a cliff hanging right over the edge. And I made it with human skulls.
I sing graveyard songs and I aint lyin' I'm a bad motherfucker and I don't mind dyin'.
The road behind me's long and lined with people crying, I can do you wrong without even trying, I sing graveyard songs and I aint lyin' I'm a bad motherfucker and I don't mind dyin'.
Track Name: Got Nobody, Lost Your Head
Firstly I would like to thank all the two faced cunts who got the fuck out my life. May the pats on the backs be disguised attacks and your time to writhe on a twisting knife.
Nobody remembers any favours, nobody is sure of what they said. Ears fall deaf when called upon to save us, you got nobody if you've lost your head.
Didn't know where I was or even where I came from, where to head for or even start but I sure remember where I got the blame from back in the days that broke my heart.
Gossip in the queue to kick the fucking wounded, someone you knew before they bled. Gotta react somehow to what the goon did, you got nobody when you've lost your head.
Lastly I should really add I'll be pissing on your accolades. Be a dog if you need that day so bad, leave friends to die in the ruins you've made.
Gossip in the queue to kick the fucking wounded, someone you knew before they bled. Gotta react somehow to what the goon did, you got nobody when you've lost your head.
Nobody remembers any favours, nobody is sure of what they said. Ears fall deaf when called upon to save us, you got nobody if you've lost your head.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Hells' Bells
Found by the wayside my face in my knees, the daylight comes creeping and warming the breeze, and casts long the shadows - there's one next to me that's neither the shape or the form it should be.
So I stare at horizons and wait for sundown. The day is a prison that holds, holds me to ground.
Then first in the distance perhaps in the sky, or even beneath the cold ground where I lie, the clang and the clatter shake the earth and the air. Invading composure to lay madness there.
No rhyme or no reason, empty like a hole, the chimes as a legion ring out. I welcome the toll that takes the blessed and drags them spitting from their rest. The toll of Hells' bells shaking loose the sky, Hells bells crumbling the earth in which we'll lie. Dead men grin their secrets and tales they'll never tell. And even if they did we'd never hear above the bells.
Upon the burning winds the chorus of the damned can sing.
Ready or not it's gonna get hot, and I say let 'em ring. Let 'em ring.
Ring ring ring ring ring.
I just exist without them but with them I'm alive, I kick up some dirt when dancing to the rhythms that they drive.
Shoot in tranquilisers my body won't react, my spirit is insatiable I tell you for a fact.
Played a dead mans hand and raised him, death dealt a win.
Ready or not it's gonna get hot, and I say let 'em ring. Let 'em ring.
Ring ring ring ring ring.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Demonsemen
The wise old woman pointed just as she hit the ground and said "Your legs they better start running just as soon as you turn round".
Preacher men I talk to go silent as I speak and at a loss for what to say they lift their books and shriek:
"You got demons hanging off you, and demons locked inside".
These demons who will stick by me long after the blood has dried.
I smile at pretty flowers, they wither up and die. My breath can condensate beneath a perfect summer sky.
Doctors and psychiatrists studied night and day to conclude that medical science just has this to say:
"There's demons hanging off you, and demons locked inside".
These demons who will stick by me long after the corpse has sighed.
Now as a man gets older his rage can settle yet, he'll learn to turn the other cheek, to forgive and forget. He'll smile instead of argue, concede and compromise. But the day he sheds his demons is the day the fucker dies.
Keep those demons hanging off you, those demons locked inside have held your bones together as they've grown and multiplied. They say no one gets to Heaven, yet no one stays in Hell.
And even as you rot away they'll stand by the place you fell.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Wake Up, Smell The Nitro
I'm in a quarter mile church with a Nitro God, on the gates to Heaven reads 'Santa Pod'. Wear your Sunday firesuit, stop it with a parachute, cut a good light and fly.
Get some air under the tyres get some rubber on the track, if you see another car you'd better see it looking back, got a chassis got some wheels got a big block deal, got the pedal to the metal 'til I die.
Live for the green light, go, it's one on one 'cos three's a crowd.
Wake up, smell the Nitro. We heard the call, and the call was loud.
Got the gospel according to Don Garlits and a four thousand horsepower apocalypse. Gotta hold it while it's shakin' cos the dead will be a waking with a supercharged holy row.
I'll take five seconds of eternal bliss. G-Force is the reason that we look like this. Feel a V8 heart pound try to keep it on the ground, got to get to the finish line now.
Live for the green light, go, it's one on one 'cos three's a crowd.
Wake up, smell the Nitro. We heard the call, and the call was loud.
If a burnout don't make it feel damn good then quarter of a mile of adrenalin should, gotta strip gotta whip it for my one way ticket, Hell's a-popping and it wants to drive.
Gotta hold on tight gotta hold my breath, no time to blink gonna drag to death. Eye's are a-stingin' and ears are a -ringin' and I swear this machine's alive.
Live for the green light, go, it's one on one 'cos three's a crowd.
Wake up, smell the Nitro. We heard the call, and the call was loud.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588
Track Name: Sick Fuck Comic Book
I've led an evil life, or so they say but it aint there place.
Aint gonna hide from the Devil on judgement day, there I rest my case.
They just don't learn, they just don't listen, scream the place down they take no heed. Just aint enough ammunition in this world for what I need.
You sick fucker, you sick sick fucker, fucking sick motherfucking sick fuck I see. Sick fuck comic book, swing it on a meathook. Sick fuck comic book, one-two-three.
Mamas little baby born bad one day, an evil twin. Hey hey little piggies what do you say, bash your brains right in.
You just don't learn, you just don't listen, scream the place down they take no heed. Just aint enough ammunition in this world for what I need
You sick fucker, you sick sick fucker, fucking sick motherfucking sick fuck I see. Sick fuck comic book, swing it on a meathook. Sick fuck comic book, one-two-three.
I don't need forgiveness though I have sinned, lay your bible down, you
can't help me brother I'm as wild as the wind, I burn churches down.
They just don't learn, they just don't listen, scream the place down they take no heed. Just aint enough ammunition in this world for what I need.
You want to dance with a devil come fan the flames, dressed to kill and we don't need names.
Back from Hell ready to go cattle mutilating in a UFO.
You sick fucker, you sick sick fucker, fucking sick motherfucking sick fuck I see. Sick fuck comic book, swing it on a meathook. Sick fuck comic book, one-two-three.

CAE/IPI number:
251811588