N. P. Ryan

Author ~ Poet ~ Music Lover

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Recent Posts: N. P. Ryan

AGGROCULTURE: scrumpydrinking thrashcore gimps – West Country bumpkin powerviolence at its gert lush best!

After this year’s exhilarating-as-ever Dean Lane Hardcore Day, I headed to the Chelsea Inn for the after show. It was there, while sat in the beer garden basking in the punk-Christmas-ness of it all, that someone

Mistress: Prepare for Doom Domination!

Skimming through the names on a promotional compilation, Mistress stopped me in my tracks; a lot can be taken from a band name, and something so precise, not to mention ‘dominating’, makes quite a statement about how the band sees itself. Clicking play, I knew there was far more chance of tired male cliché than … Continue reading Mistress: Prepare for Doom Domination!

Hawkwind, Bristol Beacon, 13th June 2026

An absolutely incredible show as usual from Hawkwind, only this one was

Reflections on the Thames as seen from London Bridge

The following is a reworking of a poem and post that originally appeared in 2018:

Ameretat: punk fire straight from the hardcore of Earth

Ameretat’s self titled debut album, released 2025, opens with ‘Ghazal-e-ātish / Posht-e-pardeh’ (‘Ode to the Fire / Behind the Veil’). The track starts with a medium paced but purposeful drum beat before a slice of feedback introduces

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Drinking in a dingy bar by the sea, crumpled postcard from Her and World’s Biggest Ray Zero for company; then the son of a starts saying I’m cursed. Praise Be to lighting-up another smoke. Inhale, taste a foul brand: the Hex She put on me. Promised Heaven, delivered a dive nightclub Hell. Thank the Lord for liquor loving hot chicks. Though nothing compares to how it’ll feel catching up with Her.

Wanted a quick bit of business and gone. Bath had other ideas. First, battered and left for dead after a hundred heart-breaking truths. Then a Police Chief with a saggy old treasure chest of secrets to keep needs a scapegoat. Dumps me in the middle of corruption so deep it eases through bone to suck greedy at marrow. With every gun pointing my way, Hell, not even He’s gonna get me outta this one.

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