positively angry band rebelling against whatever you have for them to rebel against – boredom, bosses, TV remote controls, the power tripping Police death squads, Pot Noodle, Ford Cortinas, household pets... A refusal to sit back and just accept defeat on the sofa watching twenty four hour television or drinking crap larger at the bar to forget. Walk don’t run - angry, wired, stressed out agit punk rock tension and bluster and why accept what they throw at you? Here’s a chord, here’s another, your guitar is your weapon, get off your arse, step away from that TV, stop consuming, form a band (or start a zine, or put a gig on or...) – urgent wired angry punk rock from somewhere in England


The Plastic Ashtray, July 2006.
A Musical Hand Grenade it says on the Press Sheet, not far wrong. This is audio terrorism. Those not in the know, Bomb Factory are from East Anglia, they've played with bands like Miss Black America, Towers Of London & The Broken family Band & formed 3 years ago in 'a freezing garage'. Their frequently angry songs, wry humour and aggressive delivery gives hints of bands like The Fall, Crass, Joy Division & The Pixies.

This Ep is something a bit different. The band recently entered the studios of a local radio station to play a set. Within, they caused hell and the following five tracks are highlights of what must have been a blistering set. First up is 'Shoot To Kill' which starts like a frenzied Fall did many years before with Totally Wired. Their sound is really suited to this live performance setting. Bomb Factory sound immense, Ranting Jack screaming, eyes bulging, vein popping stuff. Musically 'Shoot To Kill' combines the punk of the late 70's with the arty edge of the post-bands like Joy Division. Rhythmically astounding stuff, a real driving sound. 'Call Centre' recalls the monotony of waiting, being stuck behind an anonymous voice or the pain of 'green sleeves'. Every element of Bomb Factory is clear to hear. Bass player Aaron's meaty bass playing keeps everything direct and angry. " This is a call centre nation!" We can only wait and see.
Long time favourite 'God Loves Us & He Hates You' makes a welcome return sounding more atmospheric & brooding than ever. Imagine the dynamics of Joy Division, the harmonics of very early U2 & the anger of John Lydon.

Bomb Factory live for danger. Religion, War, Government & Education all get a glorified kicking on the street, blood running down the cracks in the pavement. Ranting Jack screams with conviction. In a world where felt-tipping political statements on your hand is deemed a talking point, god only knows what the average man will make of this. I should think orange boiler suits await the band!

Bomb Factory are on the steady war path to a wider audience, " We're so bored we hate you/ there's nothing else to do", Jack's scream holds fear and anguish that no one can deny would strike fear even into the most hardened MP. Bomb Factory don't take themselves too seriously, a band can end up with egg on it's face or contradict itself too easily. When they slide in from an angry Mark E Smith slant, things get exciting. Bomb Factory have nothing to lose, they have a general distaste for England, and their medium consists of screaming guitars, thundering drums, a bass sound to die for & a vocalist you could scare the fur off a cat.

Bomb Factory are battle-cry music for a disaffected youth. This band are essential.


Drowned In Sound, January 2006.

On The Rocks, Shoreditch.  January 28th 2006.
Some bills can never quite live up to expectation. It’s the ones that you least expect anything from that usually do, whether lovingly hand-picked or cobbled together at the last minute. For both formulae to work (and it does if it annoys the audience into saying ‘Well I preferred the first band etc’ at the bar) they should always feature radically opposed bands that somehow manage not to jar. Anything uniform just dulls the senses and makes you wish you’d stayed at home screaming at the radiator to stop making clanging sounds.

Bomb Factory like to scream. At least, their singer Jack does, and screams with substance, a sort of cross between Janov’s PS therapy and being pissed off with Saturday telly, a much needed catharsis in bucketloads. Spindly staccato rhythms with sinister edges make their songs alert, urgent and plain arsey. Agit-prop in post July 7 times, with a song about Stockwell tube station, is a much needed reminder that the Magic Numbers aren’t the answer.

NeatPeople are, no puns intended, just that. And nice. That’s surely a bizarre coincidence, you say? They are also the happiest most contented band ever to climb onto the stage and happily interact with themselves and the audience without losing any of their breezing spring-day guitar pop feeling. It's like Jonathan Richman fronting Kingmaker if they’d been any good and had had far better childhoods. A ringing guitar here, a happy fluid left-handed bassline there, and an embarrassment of melodies to sugar up the most ardent cynic. The contrast between first and second band couldn’t be more obvious, a bit like being given Belgian chocolates after losing a tooth in a pub fight. It's proof that ‘pop’ needn’t be a dirty word.

Cultural chavs with guitars? The Rank Deluxe wear hoodies – quite sensible in this weather and neighbourhood - but on stage with all those lights? A rush of youthful, happy-slap petulance, and the stage is suddenly vibrating. The correctly ticked boxes blatantly show through each song with a knowing swagger: white reggae-tinged angular NOW! songs about dole queues and Hainault, patented Chiefs/Hard Fi whoops and aaaah-a-a-aaahs, and in-your-face-Dad! arrogance. Regardless of this the aura they create feels right somehow: you'd even let them off for the five stringed bass, even though it's as 'street' as wearing an open waistcoat over a t-shirt.

Out of the three bands on offer, what more does anyone want from knowingly contrived ‘urban’ commentators than tonight's headlining display? The white heat and energy produced onstage only confirm the 'Rankers' as what is effectively in 2006 an A&R onanist’s festival of dreams, but on record you’d probably want to mock(ney) them as ‘zeity’ try-hards.
[Andrew Cooper]


Cambridge Evening News, November 2005.

Welcome to La La Land.
BORED of waiting for something to happen, four bands have clubbed together to release a compilation CD with a gig underneath Cambridge's sedate streets.  The CD, called Dear Cambridge, LA LA LA, consists of a local punk contingent: Cosycosy, The Furious Sleep, Bomb Factory and Princess Drive, who all play at the launch night on Friday.
Ranting Jack, who fronts Bomb Factory, came up with the idea. He says: "It's a way of doing something that isn't nine to five, same old, same old, string yourself up on the clothes line tedious.

"All these bands give a 110 per cent, put on a blinding show, because we all know this is our chance to squeeze some actual life out of our existence, to squash several years of delayed excitement into those 20 or 30 minutes on stage.  Also we wanted to play a gig with bands that were on a similar wavelength.  The Furious Sleep, Cosycosy and Princess Drive are all really, really good bands. I cannot stress how good. So much better than the sludge that slops out over your shoes when you turn on the radio."

The launch gig kicks off at Cellar Bar 8 in Napier Street where more than 200 copies of the CD will be given away free.

"It just seemed to us these bands should be heard by as many people as possible", says Jack. "And that was not going to happen sitting around waiting for irregular gigs in pubs. So we hired a big cellar and put on our own gig.  The CD is part of that. It's totally free. You know the way it is - you go to a gig by a band you've never heard of and they try and flog you a CD.  It doesn't matter if they've bust a gut up there, if they're sweating fat drops of blood, hardly anyone ever buys it. Give it away free and people are queuing up.  We don't mind that, this is meant to be a showcase and the CD lasts longer than the couple of hours spent at the gig - it's a musical kick-start for your memories."

Doors open at 8pm, entry is £4.


Red Pages, December 2005.

Dear Cambridge La, La, La. Cellar Bar 8, November 11th 2005.
Sick of the fact the Cambridge music scene seemingly exists of nothing more than Jools Holland playing once every six months at the Corn Exchange, [or so it seems when you're stuck playing the same pub every week to the same 15 people], four bands stopped hoping for someone to lift them out of this musical impasse, and started to fly.
They figured they'd make a bigger noise if they all shouted together.  Deep under the Cambridge streets, under this twee corner of English heaven, they played a gig. And handed out free CDs. They pulled a huge crowd. Got everybody dancing. And promoted the do it yourself ethic. Because when everybody else is too busy working nine to five, too stuck in a stoned stupor, too oxymoronic to even contemplate promoting anything other than apathy, you can't just awake yourself alone, you have to scream so loud together that you wake up the whole damn city.
So, The Furious Sleep, Cosycosy, Princess Drive and [the] Bomb Factory - we salute you for pulling us with you. So what if there's a motto about those who dare to fly? We’ll see you the other side of this horizon.
Send us a postcard.
[Tommo King]


The Ely Standard, November 2005.
Hernia inducing screams and a passionate lack of tolerance of any pretentious excuses for the state of the modern world in which we live. Bomb Factory have a spleen to vent.

WHO ARE THEY?
Ranting Jack (vocals and screaming), Emilio (guitar and bar-mounting), David (drums and hitting things) and Aaron (bass-miester).

SOUNDS LIKE?
From the crowd-pleasing rebellion of the Sex Pistols and The Clash to the post-punk of The Fall and the outspoken hip-hop of Public Enemy, Bomb Factory are inspired by any music that is trying to say something passionately. Musically their modern favourites are Arcade Fire and Editors.  "We want to blow up the endless parade of bands that sound complacent and safe. Wallpaper bands achieve nothing. We want to be a band that people either love or hate."

HOW DID THEY GET TOGETHER?
Inspired by the punk-poet John Cooper Clark, Ranting Jack wanted to put together a band of unashamed truth in 2003. David, who worked with Ranting Jack at the time, called his bluff and revealed his secret drumming powers. After a short while, Aaron (another work mate) took over from their first bass player who returned as a guitarist when the band found reciting poetry over a rhythm section was limiting. At this point, delivery of the verse changed and became the screams we know and love today. Emilio, a gig-going friend, replaced the university-bound guitarist earlier this year.

WHAT HAVE THEY BEEN UP TO?
Bomb Factory played Cambridge, Leicester, Bedford and Lowestoft in their first year. In February, they played at the notorious Towers of London gig at the APU bar in Cambridge and throughout the year they've found great reception in London. The band admit that some gigs may have been shambolic, but to them it doesn't matter as long as they've put on a performance. When an audience understand what it is they're trying to do, it just works.  They've recorded three demos, the last of which was given away free at gigs. They also released a split, seven inch single with Attilla the Stockbroker on Repeat Records. To check this out visit www.repeatfanzine.co.uk.

WHAT'S NEXT?
Bomb Factory's latest triumph is a compilation CD that is causing a buzz in Cambridge. The Factory and three other passionate, dissatisfied Cambridge bands have joined forces to rid Cambridge of it's repressive squalor. They want their voices to shout from the stereos and iPods of every music-loving gig-goer in the city. Their plan is helped by the release of Dear Cambridge La La La this Friday.  "We want to carve ourselves a bloody lump of the action with a huge, rusty knife and hold it aloft screaming defiance against the world!" clarifies Ranting Jack.
[Juliette Burton] 


The Hunts Post, June 2005.
St Ives punk band Bomb Factory have released a new demo CD and although it follows three other demos from the band (including a limited edition vinyl single) they describe it as the first they are happy with.  Listening to the tracks it’s easy to see why they are particularly proud of this recording – it finally comes close to capturing the live sound of the band that has brought them so much praise - but has until now eluded them in the studio.  "God Loves Us And He Hates You" is a witty and vicious rant against religion. Guitars chime and stab like a punky U2 around Jack’s entertaining and provocative tirade:  “God loves us and he hates you – he hates Charles Darwin too” takes an amusing swipe at creationism; the line’s ridiculous simplicity perhaps echoing the dogma he perceives in the arguments of others. The whole song is littered with incredible lines that are rushed past your ears with such confidence that it makes repeated listens essential
"Stevie Smith: Teenage Terrorist" is equally humorous with its newspaper hyperbole and sensationalism: "Stevie Smith what's gone wrong? - in his bedroom making bombs, Learned it on the Internet - not homework his teacher set.
To the band’s credit there is great uncertainty as to whether Stevie is just another of society’s ills or a heroic victim himself. Either way it’s certainly ‘society’ that Bomb Factory take aim at persistently throughout this record. Throw-away music culture is mauled in "Pop Sluts" with its repeated chant of “pull them off the stage, punch them in the face.”
Once again the excess and simplicity of their message is funny as well as desperate. Their lyrics are not meant to be taken literally. Perhaps not entirely at least.  While this wrath will lose them as many fans as it wins – it’s undeniable that their strength of purpose gives them a powerful voice and identity that many bands lack.
[Chris Boland]


Heavy Discipline, June 2005.
It seems miraculous (get it?) to me, but 'God Love Us And He Hates You' appears to be the greatest song about religious fanaticism since good ole Bob Zimmerman's 'With God On Our Side'.  Whether it chooses to ignore the fact that ALL religion is a catalyst for intolerance, rather than just the 'bible belt' (Unfortunately. If pseudo 
rapper / punk rock shouter Ranting Jack took on the Northern Ireland troubles, militant Islam, Palestine & Israel and beyond we'd have the greatest political LP ever released on our hands) or not, it seems that finally a band with REAL UNDERSTANDING and a lack of any bull shit TOLERANCE towards those that deserve it is making TUNES THAT MATTER.

Stevie Smith Teenage Terrorist' is scary enough to make slapping ASBOs on all under 18s seem a good idea, and 'Pop Sluts' is a perfect distillation of how every nervous, talentlessly pathetic adolescent feels as they see Busted or the Crazy Frog tone on Top Of The Pops instead of someone that matters.  But that's beside the point.

If I was in some earnest teenage emo band, this demo would inspire me to unlearn guitar, trash my effect pedals and write poetry instead. And I cannot see anyone else that could do that. If they put this demo on the National Curriculum instead of RE or woodwork or any of that other impractical shit designed to make you think you fit in with society when you leave school at 16, everybody would realize that the world ISN'T perfect; Although the lyrics are enough to make both the righteously pious (eg Cliff Richard) and the most ridiculous faux-Satanist (eg Marilyn Manson) repent their meaningless beliefs, they seem to also harbor some weird quasi-religious hypnotic quality, enough for every kiddy fiddling Bishop to fondle along to; Their instruments don't even sound  similar to those you saw Keane playing on MTV, maybe because their drummer is clearly wielding the hammer of Thor, whilst their axeman solely concentrates on combusting all those chemistry sets you have as a kid into huge mushroom clouds rather than actually playing guitar.

They may have spent far too long listening to post-punk, using thesauruses and making their brilliant demo cover, and not enough time debating whether using quotes from Karl Marx in a lyric is still relevant or not, but compared to who they're raging against (Everyone; Ever.) Bomb Factory really are your new anti-guitar heroes.  Even the name fits, instead of dropping songs like every band and DJ, they drop their self produced stash of NUCLEAR FUCKING BOMBS.


Whisperin and Hollerin, June 2005.
On a day spent reviewing predominantly anthemic power pop and (intriguingly) several Finnish acts, it's always good to unearth a wild card in the pile. And where shouty devils BOMB FACTORY are concerned, wild is the whole bloody point.
Not that you'd imagine a band claiming to be "bored shitless with off-the-peg, Pop Idol consumer culture" to come across as a Westlife tribute band, like, but from the off it's clear Bomb Factory have the anarchic bit between their teeth.
A collage of modern day villains (I think we can safely call them villains as BF's press release also suggests "No more icons anymore") redolent of such as the Dead Kennedys or Crass adorns the sleeve. Targets such as Michael Howard, Prince Harry (with swastika), Robert Kilroy-Silk and - most intriguingly - a Mr.Whippy van are included. Perhaps the idea is if Bomb Factory's incendiary music can't decimate this lot then maybe they can at least let down the tyres on the van. Aggro! Sound. I'm wiv yer all the way, lads!
Opener "Stevie Smith: Teenage Terrorist" will soon have yer lighting molotovs, or at least chucking bottles of piss when Reading comes round again. It's mental, punky, post-everything scree finds BF blazing away like the Screaming Blue Messiahs resurrected as kamikaze pilots and takes no shagging prisoners whatsoever.
Top fun, as is "Pop Sluts", which finds the band rolling around in their own scuzzy swill and 'singer' Jack screaming "He's a pop star! Doesn't care what the words are!" Right on sunshine! And I bet he doesn't know the price of a pint of milk, neither! Mind you, neither are as good as the closing "God Loves Us And Hates You", which is about as good a verbal poke in the eye as you'll get, really, isn't it? Suffice it to say, the song itself lurches from a Gang Of Four-ish intro with drums sounding a ritual tattoo and a lone guitar ringing out through to a sneery punker culminating in the -admittedly genius - chorus of "God loves us and he hates you...he hates Charles Darwin too!" Well, yeah, don't spare the rod, right?
At present, Bomb Factory are too inchoate to really go off effectively. Undeniably there's power here, but so far they rely solely on enthusiasm and passion and leave no room for finesse or guile. Add a little of those to the pot and we could all be enjoying the pervasive smell of semtex in the morning.
[Tim Peacock]


Drowned In Sound, May 2005.

"Demo"
This single from Cambridge performance agitators Bomb Factory is shouted punk-poetry, explicitly political and seething with anger. Frontman Ranting Jack spits the lyrics out with no pretence of singing or subtlety, darting venom at targets ranging from religious fundamentalism to vacant pop stars. The band are more concerned with impact and anger than with tunes: their songs are rhythm driven, the bass bounding from verse to chorus with the single-minded force of a wrecking ball while the guitar slashes its way through jagged chords.
Bomb Factory are protest music, plain and simple – angry and righteous, a pressure-valve through which the band members vent their frustrations with the world. They don’t give a damn for sweetening the message with pretty melodies (though the lyrics do contain plenty of suitably pointed humour: "God loves us and he hates you/He hates Charles Darwin too"), and such straightforward preaching won’t be to everyone’s tastes. But for those who look first and foremost for integrity in their music, Bomb Factory may well fit the bill.
[Holl(i)y Davies]


Brainlove, April 2005.

"Demo"
Whoah, Nelly. Bomb Factory are not happy about this. Not happy about this AT ALL. Britain is in a right fucked up state, you know. All this illusion of normality, this every-day-ness, it's all fake, and it hides atrocity and mess and bile and murder. And Bomb Factory want to tell you about it all. Old-school punksnarl guitars with a roaring Frank Black screamer on vocals, these songs build and build and build... smoke, sparks and a buzzing sound that keeps getting louder... RUN, IT'S GONNA BLOW!!! And the top flies off with a bang, and there is noise and mess and spit and piss all over the place. Totally cool.
[John Brainlove]

Towers Of London, The Suffrajets and Bomb Factory.
APU, Cambridge.

Vanguard Online, February 2005.
What the fuck do I know about punk? I’ve heard about Towers of London, I’ve heard they’re named after the high rise blocks of the capital (though they’re from Uxbridge and Ruislip.) I’ve heard they dress stupid because it makes them look cool. I’ve heard they do some kind of hair metal punk rock schtick. I’ve heard all the influences kicked around on chatrooms: AC/DC, G+R, Motley Crue… But I haven’t heard Towers of London.

It’s a long wait, all the bands are late sound checking and the doors don’t open till gone 9. The atmosphere is a dead, drugged curiosity, a collective air of ‘go on then impress me’ from the Cambridge crowd, and with the Suffrajets they get what they expected. All girl grunge rock, melodic and angsty. Scraggly 18 and 19 yr old girls from north London, half chav, half skater punk, with more than a touch of Billie Piper thrown into the mix.

Bomb Factory do their best to break the mould: older, wiser, with a megaphone for the gang of four diatribes, a fascist armband and para boots, it’s smug and angular, neo-punk, obviously with a penchant for ‘weird’ noises. I expect you could talk about Steve Reich with them and they’d say it was pretentious shit, but you’d know that three years ago they were wanking to Different Trains in their mum’s house and came really hard.

And then Towers of London came on, and you could hear all the reviewers go ‘what the fuck’ while the ugly girls from Bury St Edmunds run down the front screaming. Critics hate bands like the Towers, because they cause the ironic detachment that we spend time perfecting in the bathroom mirror to fucking implode. We hate them because they remind us of our impotence and inefficacy at doing something that makes a difference. We hate them because for all our knowledge of who released what seminal album when, and who had their stomach pumped in 1976 after ingesting six bottles of benylin in an hour, we know fuck all about punk. Half of us have never been in a fight, let alone spat on someone, or thrown a bottle at a wall to see it shatter. For all our socialist posturing, we are nice middle class tory boys through and through.

So when Danny Tourette snarls and jerks around like he’s got toxic shock, spits fountains of beer in our faces and (gasp) camera lens’, we go; ‘ooh how derivative’. When he screams ‘fuckin ell’ over and over for three minutes over a one chord OI! stomp, we suck our teeth and think how much a tattoo would hurt. When he gets taken away in handcuffs for ripping down the lighting rig, and refusing to stop playing when the security invade the stage, we laugh and say “the publicity won’t do them any harm”. Imagine, for a second what it must be like to have the courage of yr convictions. To say, this is what I do, and damn the consequences. Music journalists? What a bunch of self important C***s.
[Paul Geddis]

Bomb Factory, The Virgin Suicides and Dopejam.
The Portland Arms, Cambridge.

R*E*P*E*A*T, September 2003.
Three-piece Dopejam played very loudly to a small crowd of around 15 people. They did grungey punk that initially sounded pretty good, but after the first few songs the impact had waned due to the lack of choruses and stand out hooks rendering the rest of their set only just above average.

Comments about killing Christians, however jokingly, were pretty goddamn stupid. Quite cool beans then (but a long way from tremendous). 
My expectation level for The Virgin Suicides was sky high before this gig, as i had never experienced their full on live performance before. Due to the guitars being many notches too low, opener 'Elizabeth Royal' sounded limp, and was greeted with derogatory comments from the band themselves. But don't let that deceive you my friends, for whence the Duracell bunny frontman, is energised, he keeps on going. Hence 'Catwalk Cancer' and 'Just As Dead Now' performing superheroic feats to save the sound troubled set.  I got the feeling that it wasn't V.S's day, that it was unrehearsed and maybe that some of their energy and polemic was wasted on a crowd of so few. Oh well, better luck next time The Virgin Suicides.

Bomb factory are a strange sight to behold: men in blood flecked shirt and ties, and using only bass, drums and vocals they are certainly different. 

Once you have got over the shock of their appearance you can enjoy the rhyming witty delights shouted over a disjointed drum and bass combo, and come to the conclusion they are actually very good. Their messages are precisely and simply conveyed, and with tracks in the mould of 'Burn Cambridge Burn'- aimed at Cambridge's mindless student community- i am forced to concede that they are, just because of the force of their existence, the best rock'n' roll band ever. (well if the darkness can get that honour from every fucking paper then, at the very least, Bomb Factory deserve ten such accolades)
[Pat King]


The Portland Arms, Cambridge.

R*E*P*E*A*T, July 2003.
I think Bomb Factory sum up what REPEAT is all about much better than The Virgin Suicides ever will, and I can only hope that they get a release in the not too distant future. Instead of copying the Manics and the Pistols wholesale, and missing the point of each band (the Manics originality and desperation and the Pistols working class energy and naivety), Bomb Factory borrow from the musical sparsity of Crass and the delivery of John Cooper Clark to create their own hybrid that roles on a good beat but talks about issues that are real to the band. Titles like 'Fame Atrocity', 'The Baseball Caps are Waiting' and 'Night Bus' give you an idea of the subject matter, and while the edges were a little rough (it was their first gig) they went down well, and deservedly so.
[Chris Marling]



Almost Famous.

Interview from The Hunts Post.  January 2005.
With a name like Bomb Factory you may be expecting an incendiary cocktail of punk sounds and ferocious lyrics from this band? Well, never ones to misrepresent themselves – this is exactly what they deliver. However, while many punk bands slide into tedium with their unexplained anger and vitriol, Bomb Factory delivery their wrath with a spoonful of sugar - in the shape of extraordinary wit and intelligence.

Their song titles have the same alluring cynicism as Morrissey at his finest. Burn Cambridge Burn is a passionate attack on elitism: “They say you can walk to London on land the College owns, so burn the crops and trees, uproot the hedgerows. Leave behind a wasteland so we can start a new, with learning for the many and not just for the few.” 

God Loves Us And He Hates You sees the band address perhaps the biggest issue of our time with directness: “Take a big puff on your holy smoke, as our holy wars make holy ghosts” and with a little humour: “God loves us and he hates you, he hates Charles Darwin too.”

However, in getting their songs heard the band feel the same frustrations shared by many local musicians. Jack, the band’s lead singer and main songwriter tells me “the situation with venues is woeful. Cambridge has depressingly few and places nearby none at all. The only way is for people in bands to take responsibility; maybe the real answer is to get your own gigs up and running. Hire a venue or just play where you can.”

The band are currently trying to arrange a show in St Ives and have had a positive response from a number of the town’s pubs. Despite St Ives being the hometown for most of the band they have yet to play a show there.

Whatever your musical or political persuasions, Bomb Factory demand respect for their passion and originality. Furthermore, the curious music fan will be unfailingly rewarded at their live shows with a musical energy that matches their lyrical power. Jack will kneel, screaming into the microphone as if his anger at the world might change things. Perhaps someday it will. He appears part Johnny Rotten, part Michael Moore. Dave Williams rarely leaves the stage before upturning his drum kit; it might be knocked about for sometime or just pushed away in relief after his final beat of the show. Bassist Aaron plays studiously amongst the clatter and new guitarist Emilio strums angrily, yet precisely throughout. Together they’re explosive.

The DIY Rock Revolution.
Interview from Red Pages.

Bomb Factory talk about about naturism, pop bands and their first explosion.

Bomb Factory is a three-piece punk-poetry group.  Sound strange? Indeed, this is not a boy-band. Their singer, who prefers to be known as "Ranting Jack", explains: "Basically, the idea is that I stand at the front and rant like a lunatic and the other guys stand at the back and produce a punk rumble."
Talking about their gig at The Junction last year, RJ describes the crowd reaction to Bomb Factory: "It's funny, I don't think people know what to make of it the first time because it doesn't sound like anything else." In his poetry, RJ's words are so full of politics, passion and anger that he spits them out like week-old coffee. Their trademark song, Bum Cambridge Burn describes the divide between Cambridge the university town and Cambridge the residential hamlet. During his chat with Red Pages, RJ amiably talks about capitalism, resource re-distribution, guns, swords and the cost of living in Cambridge. When we suggest anarchy, he's all for that as well.

So is it all just political gumph? Well, when Red Pages expresses a preference for naturism over anarchy, RJ is up for that too. "We've got a sense of humour" continues RJ, whose song topics range from night bus journeys and obliterating pop music from the face of the Earth.
Or maybe everything does revolve around politics: on the topic of pop bands, RJ adds; "Up yours to a trash celebrity elite created in boardrooms to keep you passive and obedient." Red Pages trusts that this doesn't apply to Kylie.

But back to the musical stuff. Bomb Factory have built up a decent reputation in a very short space of time. Having been together for just 18 months, they've already had some interest from record labels and are just about to launch their first vinyl release with Attila the Stockbroker, a fellow punk poet who has been in the business for over 20 years. RJ explains that Bomb Factory supported Attila the Stockbroker when he played a gig in Cambridge last year: "He really liked our stuff and off the back of that, he agreed to put out a coloured vinyl seven inch with us. His music is on one side and ours is on the other."

And so Cambridge gets a double-bill of punk poetry once more when Attila and his band Barnstormer return to launch the split single. Red Pages wants to know what the audience should expect from Bomb Factory on the night. "A punk rock explosion", declares RJ, "plus some anger, passion, humour and inspiration. Do-it-yourself rock revolution is what we're about."
The Bomb Factory / Attila the Stockbroker split 7inch single is out now on R*E*P*E*A*T Records.

Drowned in Sound, April 2004.
Attila The Stockbroker - Baghdad Ska
Bomb Factory - Night Bus
[Double A-Side Single - R*E*P*E*A*T Records]

Baghdad Ska / Night Bus' is a limited edition white vinyl split seven inch single, released by the legendary R*E*P*E*A*T organisation, to raise money for the 'Love Music Hate Racism' campaign.
It finds surrealist rebel poet Attila The Stockbroker and cohorts Barnstormer laying down a skank-tastic backbeat to tell the story of an Iraqi caught up in the war and subsequent occupation of his country. Despite Attila's politically inaccurate assertion that: "They're going to take me to Guantanemo Bay", it's a thought provoking tale.
On the flip side, 'Night Bus' by Cambridge based Bomb Factory is an 'Oi' punk flavoured tale of "the cattle market experience" of using buses to cross from one side of London to another after midnight. Essentially, it's not a very nice trip, full of pissheads, stoners, mentalists and muggers all driven around the capital by the bus driver from hell.
So there you have it. Musically it's not brilliant but that's hardly the point. In this apathetic age Repeat are to be applauded for raising people's political awareness using a good old fashioned dose of the DIY punk spirit.
Buy 'Baghdad Ska/Night Bus' by sending a cheque or postal order for £3.00 to R*E*P*E*A*T, PO Box 438, Cambridge CB4 1FX
Find out more about the 'Love Music Hate Racism' campaign.


Cambridge Evening News.
Attila The Stockbroker - Baghdad Ska
Bomb Factory - Night Bus
[Double A-Side Single - R*E*P*E*A*T Records]

This double a-side from Cambridge's R*E*P*E*A*T Records and Love Music, Hate Racism is more about the message than the music. Veteran punk-poet Attila's rude boy lament for the people of Baghdad is a poignant reminder why Iraqis aren't just smiling and saying "thank you America". Bomb Factory's rant is a little closer to home, taking a sidelong sneer at London's late-night idiot chariot and the ghastly contents there in. As thoughtful and thought provoking as it is noisy, this is a fine example of what punk used to be all about before it got stolen by skaters. Both bands play the Portland Arms, Mitcham's Corner, Cambridge to launch the single on Thursday, April 15.
[Chris Marling.]


Drowned In Sound.
"Point Your Gun"

Bomb Factory's 3-track demo 'Point Your Gun' is less a collection of tunes than it is aural art, with the main thrust of the song in the seething vitriol of the spoken-word vocal line rather than riffing and musicianship. Consisting of bass and drums but no guitar, the instruments provide more rhythm than tune and also serve to anchor the songs, preventing the vocal from splintering under the weight of its own disgust. The singer takes personal anger and makes it political, with subjects ranging from a personal distaste for catching the night bus to the bile-ridden disgust at the whole world showcased in 'Blow it up, Burn it Down, Kick it Till it Breaks'. It's this third song which works best for me as it contains a marvelously ominous bass line which makes the whole song feel loaded with threat, whereas in the other tracks the bass is more taunting and almost casual, more of a contrast to than an amplifier of the vocals.
The lack of instrumental wankery (and tune... almost) means that the main thing which comes across on this demo is an overwhelming taste of bitter anger and wrath. It's an extremely honest CD, with no frills whatsoever and no attempt at prettying it up - you'll either appreciate the song for its message and get what they're doing as it stands, or you won't appreciate it at all. If you don't buy the politics and the strength of emotion they inspire, you won't want to buy the music. But as far as I'm concerned, the clear sincerity of it all is powerful enough to be palatable.
[Holl(i)y Davies]