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a lot of these are kind of old now, i ended up losing track of all the things that got written about us after sometime around autumn 2003, because we were mostly away on tour.
you get the idea tho.
structure and fear
seething with the kinetic jolt of confrontation, the bitter anxiety of oppression, cat on form are four free-minded kids brought up on dischord records and the sense that this world could/should be a better place, powering every riff and howl with a perfect blend of emotional and political intent. because you can't ever separate politics and emotions. full-blooded and lost in the moment, cat on form's hurtle of staccato passion and powerful lyricism is both exhilarating and empowering. the machine-gun hooks of "mr. spotlight", speeding stop-start vocals of "rock and roll song" and "action happening"s dangerous chaos define a band brilliantly mining fugazi's rich seam of jagged anthemicism. elsewhere, drummer eva's "blood drained" expertly evokes the potent disquiet of american alt-rock legends throwing muses. essential. 4K's.
structure and fear
album review by hardeep phull, rock sound
there's being emotional, and then there's cat on form. these four inhabitants of brighton play with the kind of unabashed self-exposure that leaves nothing to the imagination and is practically a form of musical pornography. nearly every moment of "structure and fear" is filled with a harrowing sparseness that echoes the barely-listenable "confusion is sex"-era sonic youth. the multiple layers of blood-curdling screams that can be heard on the damnation of modern society that is "i broke a nail" sounds like they were extracted from someone having their arm amputated without anaesthetic. suffice to say, then, that "structure and fear" is an extreme and much needed horror-rock antidote to everything that is considered normal in this world. for that reason, cat on form need to be heard as soon as inhumanly possible. 8/10
93 feet east, london (with part chimp) 15.01.03
live review by jane gillow, kerrang
part chimp and cat on form sound like the by-product of a bizarre cloning experiment to create the most foul, yet unashamedly fluffy, beast to prowl the east end since jack "the ripper" russell got banged up. yet both inject such tenderness into their hardcore thrashings that you feel these sonic butchers possess fiercely beating hearts beneath their bluster. brighton-based quartet cat on form partake in the kind of ritualistic rutting that keeps david attenborough in bad suits. joint frontmen dan and steve jostle and judder for supremacy, their detuned guitar dirge falling apart at the seams, leaving up to their meg-white-in-the-making drummer to hold it together. shirts are swiftly yanked over shaven heads, guitars are bestowed on the crowd, and skeletal frames hit the floor, before cat on form slink off, blood dripping from guitar strings.
a butterfly kiss the tar of a thousand births ep
record review by pl, in nme
inspired by fugazi's hardline diy ethic, brighton foursome cat on form mix up shouting, cement-mixer hardcore, lilting post-rock loveliness, jerky time signatures and more shouting into a spiky chunk of homegrown post-hardcore. further proof of their lunatic greatness lies in the way that they'll happily call a song "back off man, i'm a scientist", and the tips on turning waste food into compost on their website. you just don't get that with most bands.
brighton corn exchange (with fugazi), 20.10.02
by stevie chick, kerrang!
So an unwelcome bout of flu robs tonight's bill of moustachioed garage vanguard Billy Childish and his Buff Medways, but the whirling, sweat-drenched and half-naked dervish that is Brighton's Cat On Form dashes any regrets within moments of their opening blood-letting. Make no mistake - this band are intense, their politicised, bare-boned explosions tearing from a pulsing heart and, in joint frontmen Steve and Tom, fiery larynxes that can channel absolute and acrid ferocity and, also, a raw tenderness. Songs lash and thrash away on anything but autopilot, riffs slowing and speeding emotively, sounding forever on the edge of falling about, before exploding into flames once again, guitar-strings detuned and wailing as walls of noise give way to strangled bruises of sound. All the while, the band lurch and hurtle across the stage, nervy and impassioned, electrified and utterly consumed by the moment. While the headliners' own brand of insurrectionary art-punk echoes through the feedback and skronk, Cat On Form truly sound like no other band, and their originality and energy verge, often, on brilliance.
machester retro bar, 07.08.02
This Brighton band put out a lot of energy. The drummer is a dark haired woman with a vague resemblance to a young Siouxsie Sioux. The two guitarists look like they could be brothers and alternate angry melodic shouting stints at the mic. One of them charges shirtless into the revellers on fire with punk rock excitement. The lanky bassist merges into the background. Jo's flyer mentions comparisons to early Gang of Four, Nation of Ulysses, Huggy Bear which all seem relevant but live I heard things that really remonded me of Fugazi and the Gang of Four comparison seemed quite valid, which is a very good thing. The NOU / HB influence seems to apply more to their single on which there are female back up vocals. Do not miss this band if they come to your town!
cat on form, the cellar, oxford 06.08.02
by Ian Chesterton
The one minor disappointment of the recent Truck Festival was the no-show from Brighton’s hardcore tykes Cat On Form. Two of the band had managed to hospitalise themselves in separate incidents. True punk rock troupers that they are though, the remaining members of the band spent a week getting a new band and set of songs together and did the gig anyway. Finally seeing the band live tonight it’s easy to see how this is a band that gets themselves hurt. Defying normal band aesthetics Cat On Form’s drummer has set her kit up at the front of the stage and is playing it with her back to the audience. From her perch she can probably keep a better eye on the rest of the band who, face-painted, shirtless and shaven-headed are enjoying a particularly energetic three-man riot. Taking a cue from the original DC hardcore book, Cat On Form leather rock and roll to within an inch of its life. Frantic, frenetic and furious and are barely adequate descriptions for what’s going on. They’re a blur of sharp elbows and sharper tempo changes, the twin singing skinhead guitarists firing off each other, their vocal sparring layering on the intensity at every tight twist and turn. ‘Everything Has A History’ is a political call-to-arms set to an attack ship beat, crushing every pathetic, mewling angst-ridden so-called punk poser within a 1,000-mile radius. None of yer poncy emo shit this, Cat On Form are the real hardcore deal: violently wired but always melodic, never brutal. Crazy, sexy, cool. Honestly, Hundred Reasons and their ilk can kiss their skinny white arses.
Eeebleee + X-1 + Cat On Form, The Wheatsheaf, 26.04.02
by Jennifer Yellow-Hat, taken from www.oxfordbands.com
Another Friday, another Trailerpark One Louder night. Only this time it’s almost impossible to describe what opening band Cat On Form sound like using conventional language. Better off communicating using the language of emo: BLAAAAARRRR! GRAARRRR! AAAAAAAAAH! BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR! Or, in the terminology of classic Adam West-era Batman, THWACK! CRASH! FNAKK! WHOMP! Cat On Form (featuring ex-members of the now sadly-defunct Oedipus) are a maelstrom of flailing limbs, lung-puncturing guitars and glass-eyed intent: the sound Fugazi would make if you turned them all into dogs, starved them for a week and then shoved them in a room full of, well, cats. Whatever the question, they seem to have the answers. Mike stand falls of the stage? No problem – jump off after it and lie on the floor screaming. Singer getting too much of the onstage glory? Simply dive at his legs mid-riff and end up in a twelve-stringed, bad-tempered pile of copies of Idlewild’s Captain. The Brighton four-piece could quite easily end up as the punk Shellac (or at least the OXES of the south coast), and they know it. Visceral, tight and frenetic, they look the part of rock stars as well as they play it. Cat On Form have a date with Steventon at this year’s Truck Festival – anyone who has ever been to the Club That Cannot Be Named should be down the front taking notes. Just be careful not to get hit by any bits of Cat.
oxford wheatsheaf, 26.04.02
"The night of surprises"
silver rocket : upstairs at the garage, 05.04.02
by james moore
Openers Cat on Form take to the stage in their scruffy homemade tees, take a while to (de)tune their instruments, tell the audience to shout at them rather than to clap politely and then steamroll straight into their own brand of intense, chaotic, adrenalised punk rock. They belt out their forthcoming single 'Oh No! Telephone Rings', an Unwound/I'm Being Good-esque racket with duel screams, which are inaudible above the shrieking, sliding, acrobatic guitars which meander over and under a violent rhythm.
'Everything Has A History' has the ferocity and youthful energy of the Ramones, which is carried into the punk-rock anthem 'Soiled Skulls', where Dan puts his guitar down so he can fully concentrate on the tourette-like screaming over the sheer wall of noise. They're one of the most exciting live bands I've seen this year, only suggestion I have is to keep the politics lessons between songs out of their set as they're a tad off pointing.