When first heading to punk gigs in Bristol and following the relevant social media, I fast became aware of a buzz around local band Split Dogs.

Such was that buzz my first attempt to see them live ended in failure when arriving at The Plough only to find a long line-up outside of people waiting for others to leave—which was unlikely—so they could get in.

It wasn’t until some time later that I managed to catch them at the Chelsea Inn. There they delivered a set of slick frenetic punk exploding with an energy knowing no bounds, producing so much joyous sweat the flood warning for Bristol seen earlier in the day online and making no sense at the time—the weather was fine—suddenly did in bounds.

More recently I caught Split Dogs at the Dean Lane Hardcore Funday; a quite incredible event that Jenny Edwards of band The Brislingtonez described to me as ‘Punk Christmas’ and not without good reason it was to turn out.

With a stage erected on a ledge right on the edge of the skating area, punk bands played all day as numerous moshed in front, many sat watching from the skateboard bank opposite and others skated with equally large groups watching them; while behind the stage many more—families aplenty—sat on a grassed area to listen as kids happily used the play area to the tune of crushing punk.

A variation of the flyer warned ‘bring your own everything’ and it wasn’t kidding; there was a power source for the sound desk and bands, plus somewhere for the latter to sell merch, that’s it. No drink or food vendors or even toilets; a local Wetherspoons very graciously letting people use its facilities (never thought I’d say anything nice about that franchise again, but credit where it’s due).

Less is More

This lack of anything is one of the things making the Dean Lane day so beautiful. No line-ups or cursing gouged prices. People may well tell you to go, but no one is selling the idea as there’s no profit to be made. In being a true grassroots community event, everyone there cares; discarded garbage at a bare minimum in stark contrast to the ever more common images of festival sites left strewn with junk; and there were certainly enough people at Dean Lane and enough booze drunk to have left the relatively small space that way.

The atmosphere was sublime, not a hint of trouble and absolutely no need for the van of plod parked at the top of the park that surely could’ve been doing something much better with its taxpayer paid for time. If accidentally forgetting the green or not having the cash for booze, someone would happily share theirs; same for sun block when not giving it a thought after a week of solid grey skies only for a blistering sun to grace the event with its presence:

It’s a spirit that prevailed and could be felt as much as the music heard.

Since the Chelsea Inn gig, bassist Jonny Mathers had to depart the band for family reasons, being replaced by Suez; Dean Lane being the second gig with the new line-up, the first only the night before in Swindon. Not that anyone would’ve realised as Split Dogs tore through a set of adrenalin driven punk ecstasy, the transition seamless.

All photos from Dean Lane (below and header) courtesy and © Copyright Graham Watts of band  There’s Always Time.

Stood side of stage it was impossible to miss the crowd’s reaction, in particular a number of young punks and goths watching absolutely transfixed, besotted, total adoration in their eyes for Harry, utterly in love with the energetic ownership not only of the offside of the barrier at stage edge, but also the area in front, a strutting display of energy and flexibility unknown to most humans full of wide-eyed glares while not a line of the lyrics lost the trademark Split Dogs’ growl.

In a skate park somewhere in south Bristol, I was witnessing an idol-level performance; and it was free and open to all ages. People were being elevated, inspired. It was a gig that could change lives.

A truly incredible thing to claim, yes; but it was there: I saw it.

Surprises, Ironies & Considerations

At Dean Lane I was lucky enough to have a chat with the band. I’d assumed—never assume, kids—the buzz in Bristol about Split Dogs was for a longstanding group getting back on the road after Covid, in the process needing a new bassist, the then recruitment of the now replaced Jonny Mathers filling that role.

To be fair to me, it wasn’t a totally baseless assumption: two videos had been posted to social media and both the Chelsea Inn and Dean Lane gigs did nothing to dispel the idea. They confirmed it tenfold.

So it came as a big surprise to learn Split Dogs is essentially a Lockdown project started by partners in love, life and crime Harry (vocals) and Mil (lead guitar); the album everyone was buzzing about featuring the versatile Mil on bass too, it being the band’s debut.

I started reviewing to help bands during Lockdown. Many of the albums, even the whole band, being a direct result:

The first reviewed—Brigitte Bardon’t’s ‘Pink’—is an album using only a discarded toy Barbie keyboard that had been in the works for Krystel Jax since finding it on a Toronto sidewalk but not the time; Space rock outfit SÖNUS was an individual project by pre-Covid archaeologist David Wachsman involving a homemade cardboard sound booth, that’s now a fully functional touring band; and Rich Brown’s (not the Rich Brown drumming for Split Dogs) venture into homemade folk that is phenomenal in production—especially when harmonising the backing vocals, despite involving a cushion fort—saw him become jewel in the crown of a major folk festival straight after Lockdown finished.

Two days before Dean Lane, while updating the music review contact form on this site, I removed a line about hoping Covid didn’t suck the life out of music as it didn’t seem relevant anymore (in the UK it’s almost like it never happened); and on the Monday after, came across a meme shared by the International Times showing a mother and son with the son saying ‘When I grow up, I want to be a musician’ and the mother replying ‘Well make up your mind, son; you can’t do both’.

Talk to any fan of the sort of utopia found at Dean Lane and they’ll no doubt have a lot to say about the numerous negative impacts the current capitalist agenda has on art; which in turn has a negative impact on the wellbeing of people.

Covid, of all things, has proved it; well, one of the measures intended to curb it, at least.

In the Beginning . . .

Mil had been mulling over starting a band pre Covid, Harry fully encouraging the idea, having been in a number when younger and never intending giving it up until life got in the way, mainly in the form of opening a tattoo shop. Mil told me none of those early bands really got anywhere; though, in being from the same part of South London, left me open-mouthed impressed when happening to mention once playing a gig at Beanos—a legendry secondhand record shop in Croydon—when at its original Surrey St location (I have vinyl from there that still has the rating sticker on!).

It was in the tattoo shop that Mil met Rich; the latter having popped in for a pineapple and the former just happening to ask if he knew any drummers. This was in 2018 when the concept of Split Dogs had two songs to its name, though it wasn’t until 2020 that the first practice took place, Lockdown having allowed the needed time to write the material necessary to be a band in the true sense of the word: 2021 seeing the first gig with a line-up consisting two guitarists and Mil on bass supporting Ramones tribute act The Ramonas.

More gigs quickly followed, and despite some members having to pullout, the ball was running plenty enough by 2023 that just Harry, Mil and Rich entered the studio to record the self-titled album, Jonny being recruited soon after so playing live could continue.

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To say life for Harry and Mil post Lockdowns is hectic would be an understatement. When asking Harry if there’s any particular reason Split Dogs aren’t on bandcamp, the reply was a straightforward, ‘There just hasn’t been the time.’ Though, to be fair, that isn’t just down to starting a band fast becoming if not already the hottest thing on the scene, but also as Mil and Harry also chose the break Lockdown gave them as the perfect time to start a family, so now have being parents to add to a schedule that a mere worldwide pandemic ago seemed a challenge to just add the band bit to alone.

Ironically meaning Split Dogs now also serve as example of what can be done if not having time.

The positives don’t stop there:

When Suez—who it turned out isn’t just also from South London, but first lived about two roads away from where I initially did in Colliers Wood—came off stage at Dean Lane having just played a killer set, I offered a can of beer only for it to be politely declined with the explanation of once having been completely dependent, before undertaking the long, arduous and painful journey to sobriety.

An achievement with the power to not only inspire those wanting to break the curse of addiction, it also shows a return to thriving in social environments where many a high can be found without the need to touch any is likewise attainable; even those simply not wanting to cave to the peer pressure of having to drink or whatever to have a good time will be able to take much solace from seeing someone up on stage putting in such a phenomenal performance without the need to either.

Split Dogs are influencing, there’s no doubt about that: fans will want to scratch the surface; and when they do, they’ll find positive examples in bounds, a band more than worthy of their devotion.

The Album:

Split Dogs’ debut self-titled album opens dirty and mean with ‘Gutter Ball’ a real rock ‘n’ roller from the school of early Bon Scott-era AC/DC that moves fast into the stoner rock realms of Monster Magnet and Kyuss.

It’s the first time I’ve come across a sound quite like this; plenty hints of metal in punk, yes—from thrash to black to death—but punk that in places can put me in mind of a band like Clutch, no.

Taking to bandcamp I find #stonerpunk already used by many while none—that I gave a quick listen to—come anywhere near to what Split Dogs are doing; overall most sounded straight-up stoner bands with the slightest sprinkle of punk added somewhere along the way. 

This is not that, but more a reversal or perhaps coming full circle of what Josh Homme and John Garcia described as influences in a 2011 Guardian article:

‘ Heavy metal’s psychedelic forefathers, Black Sabbath and Blue Cheer, were usually the first names invoked when people heard Kyuss, but Homme always shrugged them off. “I never really listened to metal,” he later told Spin. “I wanted to be able to claim that I’d never heard the music that supposedly influenced me.” He instead cited punk rock, especially the dense, sludgy hardcore of Black Flag’s 1983 album My War. “I was listening to the Smiths and the Cult; the rest of the guys were listening to the Misfits, Bad Brains, Black Flag, the Ramones,” Garcia says. “We knew that we wanted a sound that nobody else had.” ‘ 

It’s in the riff-roaring solos, the subtle complexities underpinning the drums, the ever motoring-on drive of the bass; even the vocals carry something of a Dave Wyndorf and the afore mentioned Bon Scott style posturing.

Just here there’s a faster pace, a sharper edge, a meaner glint in the eyes; even in softer moments, Harry’s vocals never fully lose their don’t-fuck-with edge.

While all just said can be found across the album, track two ‘Cattle Prod’ is about as straight-up punk as it gets, hardly giving the listener time to take a breath before the whip-lashing onslaught is done, over in one second short of a minute; a track to make a pit go extra wild for knowing how soon it will be gone, and almost called criminally short by me but for the wisdom of the adage ‘always leave them wanting more’.

Track three ‘Big Fred’ is an Oi anthem in a style similar to Peter and the Test Tube Babies; a raucous, rampant romp taking the listener on a journey of social injustice on rundown council estate doorsteps through to the inside of smoky bookies and sticky pubs.

Given the earlier reference to AC/DC and both bands having singers that are absolute dynamite, it’s impossible not to mention similarities to Amyl and the Sniffers. There are comparisons to be made, yes; track four ‘Blood Runs Cold’ being a good example of the equality in song style existing between the bands. But as the track progresses, the unique personality of Split Dogs rises to the surface in very British fashion as the metal leanings that the song builds on and towards are totally NWOBHM in nature—think 80s era Girlschool/Rock Goddess swagger—and don’t bring any antipodeans to mind at all.

Dare I say it, there’s also a faint hint of 70s glam rock in there too. 

Track 5 ‘Prison Bitch’ highlights the incredible range of styles to be discovered across the album as it becomes pure Riot Grrrl heaven when delving deep into Bikini Girls/54 Nude Honeys territory. While lyrics are frequently to the point, in places the intent can be a little elusive; a poetic punk prose leaving—no, daring—the listener to draw their own conclusion. There’s no doubting the gist, but much is left to a listener’s imagination; the never-say-die delivery of the lyrics setting out a dire situation then somehow always managing to leave it sounding like Harry’s on top.

Split Dogs team photo, 28th October, 2023, The Luna, London. Back row left to right: Mil Martinez; Rich Brown; Suez Boyle. Front Row: Harry Martinez.

Track 6 ‘Feeder’ is a rampant down and groovy tale of overeating. I will put my hands up and say I’m not entirely sure where it’s going lyrically, but do know the song puts a massive grin on my face especially when Harry finds time to mention the cost of this indulgence to the weekly shop. 

Track 7 ‘(It’s Not) The End Of The World’ punches its way through a tale that took me from an abstract comment on Climate Change denial to a situation of estrangement with a blood relative, and it’s highly probable I’m wrong about both, my focus far too taken by something in the song’s bones; a vibe that once again had me heading towards thunder from Down Under comparisons, only this time in the direction of something more specific.

Not so much hints of early era Bon Scott, but an encapsulating of all the up-tempo tracks on his last album Highway to Hell: ‘Beating Around the Bush’, ‘Get It Hot’, ‘Shot Down in Flames’; that get down and groove drive, heading out on the highway wind in hair, getting knocked back and just staring all over again, care-fucking-free.

Yet it’s still punk as fuck, the ferocious vocals alone making sure of that. And here the element of being free is found in the form of being free to make it very clear to some third party that instead of jump in for the ride, they need to royally piss off.

Track 8 ‘Summer In The Slums’ is a song capturing the haphazard nature of living in a British seaside resort from a UK cult perspective: ‘nine months of the year, no one’s here; but the sun comes out and the mobs appear’; Harry’s sighed reaction to this latter part of things perfect! It’s a tale of lagered-up cat calls from blokes away from home and on the lash that lead to boozy dust ups with locals told to a backdrop of bruising, driving sound following the fuck-you posturing back-and-forth through to the inevitable too-many-beers-later scrappy coming together.

Penultimate track ‘Punch Drunk’ is literally the song that does what it says on the tin, somehow managing to cause a moment’s disorientation when kicking in despite being track nine of an album of organised mayhem; a pounding and relentless whirlwind, just like the self-destructive behaviour sung of.

The very opening of final track ‘Tear Down The House’ causes an eh?! moment when thinking ‘Rock This Town’ by the Stray Cats has somehow come on; it really is the teeniest moment, but similarities with straight-up rock ‘n’ roll don’t stop there when the backing vocals have echoes of the likewise on Little Richard’s ‘The Girl Can’t Help It’.

It’s indicative of all that can be found across the album, the finale itself pretty much showcasing everything in the Split Dogs kennel: straight-up punk with stoner complexities; a serious, never relenting sound that still knows how to have a fucking good time; a vocal range from Harry—which I say at risk of kicking off a ‘Summer In The Slums’ type situation with Mil—that doesn’t just go from full growl to clean howl, but can be damn right sexy when it does too!

There’s nothing like seeing a band live—especially when it’s Split Dogs—though those that haven’t will find much of same energetic good-time vibe captured here, while equally all the nuances that might be missed in the melee of a mosh pit rise to the surface thanks to the absolutely exquisite level of production and mix on the album.

The whole package oozes boldness, confidence; a significant depth for care and eye for detail. Hard fucking graft went into making this, an absolute realisation for what’s being done and what it will represent existing in every note; the years of practice, the wealth of musical experience and influences, are all there to be heard within an album that’s fresh, fast, vibrant and most important of all is adored by its target audience. If there’s one word to encapsulate it all, the word that jumps out is honest.

Split Dogs at time of recording:

• Harry Martinez: Lead Vocals
• Mil Martinez: Guitar / Bass / Vocals
• Rich Brown: Drums / Vocals

Split Dogs at Dean Lane: 

• Harry Martinez: Lead Vocals
• Mil Martinez: Guitar / Vocals
• Rich Brown: Drums / Vocals
• Suez Boyle: Bass

Links

• Split Dogs Linktree

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