Singled Out - turntable transmissions of a 45 kind……
http://www.myspace.com/blacktzar - a new project featuring the production talents behind the likes of Salon Boris (who we‘ve only just discovered to much shock and sadness recently split up), blacknoisewhitesoul (who released a few killer releases and then disappeared off the radar not before promising an album which we never saw / heard) and electric boys (previously unknown to us I think I’m right in saying though based on their cut ’electric lips’ which features here sounds like a whole heap of sauciness very much in the vein of Client - love the riff nicks from Lou Reeds ’waiting for the man’). black tzar brings together the collaborative talents of Tom McGarrigle and Paul Bryan (of Salon Boris fame) who are currently holed up in a studio we suspect somewhere in the wiles of Glasgow putting the finishing touches to a debut full length. Promising exclusive peaks via their my space page for now they’ve posted just one cut in the shape of ’True’ - thankfully not the same slice of Spandau badness from yesteryear but a rather slinky 80’s electro vibe cutie lushly framed by subtly orbiting jet streamed shimmering solar flares of uber cool club floor orientated soul braided by strut like intermissions that to these ears had us much recalling some kind of match made in pop heaven between B-Movie and Monaco. Bet that’s got you chomping at the bit.
http://www.myspace.com/tatyana169 - those wondering what Tatyana of Salon Boris is up to these days it seems that she’s currently looking at putting together a new band and is actively seeking like minded recruits. We’ll keep an eye out via this page and update you as and when developments happen - for now tune in to Salon Boris’ finest moment ’bride of boris’ here performed live at 2004’s T in the Park - frankly one of the best and sexiest sounding electro cuts to come our way in yonks…..
http://www.myspace.com/musicodyssey - formed little over a year ago Miami based duo Peter I and Daniel M set up music odyssey with the purpose of creating and composing digital scores for film, television and other various medias. Showcased here you’ll find ten mood altering compositions that reveal a broad and varied spectrum of influence ranging from the titanic and turbulent to the sublime and mellowing such as the tension crests of the Jerry Goldsmith meets John Carpenter regal obliqueness of ‘the escape’ or the melancholically numbed and snow tipped chill of the regretful ‘noir waters’ with its descending Erik Satie corteges and bracing swathes of brass opines. ’the evil within’ as you’d expect from a track named such courts with skin tingling effects, the sombre though stately monastic montages encompassing a hollowing edge to the proceedings wrapped ominously in suspense stricken atmospheric keys recalling elements of Goblin. Its not all doom and gloom ’Rush’ is a slickly shimmering slice of lunar loveliness that succulently weaves and woos in similar stellar trajectories to New Order’s ’elegia’ and ‘1963’ while the gorgeously lilting chilled thrilled drone ambience of ’modern city’ has an air Jean Michel Jarre about its wares albeit as though recalibrated by a particularly oceanic and sultry sounding 808 State. More please.
Petit Mal ‘crisis in the credit system’ (difficult fun). Socio politic - economic pop songs don’t you just love them. What do you mean you don’t know any - surely you remember the Swede Beatles ode to gold diggers and lust for readies aplenty ’money money money’ as observant a foreteller to footballers wives as we’ve ever heard, or the classic ’how much is that doggy in the window’ an insightful vision of the coming of high street establishments such as cash converters wherein everything short of your soul has a price albeit a pretty low one. Whilst lest we forget ol’ spinach tooths ‘money’s too tight to mention’ - sadly not tight enough given they released the repugnant ‘Stars’ sometime later. Ben Seymour and Melanie Gilligan are Petit Mal, a duo - as though you haven’t worked that one out for yourselves yet -who have arguably - well that’s not strictly true given no one else has - penned the first pop song / anthem / musical commentary (delete where applicable) about the current financial meltdown. A brisk and fetching little treat it is to, apparently written two years ago, that’s sure to lift your fiscal woes assuming that is that the crunch isn’t so bad that you can’t afford to buy or indeed play it due to the escalating home fuel costs. A floor throbbing throwback to the 80’s wherein old school pre disco dolly Human League (you know the ones - dour, mysterious, political, rain clouds following them everywhere, oblique orientated, funny haircuts…that type of stuff) meets new school disco dolly Human League (happy, perky, cheery, sun shining from backsides, pop orientated, funny haircuts…ah your with me now) - throw in a shed load of chill factored monochromatic ’organisation’ era OMD, some healthy dollops of post Vince Clarke Depeche Mode doing ‘Tin Drum‘ era Japan routines, a maddeningly catchy clockwork rhythm, twinkling star lit key arrangements and some mid career Stereolab dialects for good measure. Once stirred and left to cool and marinate seek nearest dance floor, commandeer turntable - play very loud and watch the unfolding swoon like spectacle. Flip side features ‘crisis in the credit system’ part 2 (apparently there are four parts in total) - the favoured side in truth mainly because its all over the place, irregular, damaged and skewed, jarring rhythms, angular electronics, wired time signatures which in truth sounds not unlike Hazel O’Connor in some kind of mutant post punk electro face off with DAF while the Native Hipsters impishly hide under the control desk cross wiring the mixing console interface. Essential stuff but can you get it on tick? www.myspace.com/petitmalpetitemal
The Manhattan Love Suicides ‘veronica’ (Squirrel). Much love around these parts and scaling our affections for having that dude Charlie Bronson adorning the sleeve. Limited to just 500 vinyl 7 inches and sure to sell out in an instant if that is previous outings are anything to go by. Featuring two freshly nailed nuggets from the femme fronted fuzz fancies, the shades adorned ’Veronica’ is your dead eyed shot between the eyes slice of coolly shimmered soft psyche pop lovingly braided with effects laden bliss grooves and sounding not unlike a particularly chilled Primitives shimmying up to early career JMC and both finding themselves sharing a common love for honeycombed 50’s bubblegum pop. Flip le disc for the superior ’the 10th victim’ - lushly rooted in all manner of locked grooved fuzz mantra droning and drilled sumptuously with a wasted glazed drug induced vibe which by our reckoning should see it appealing in equal measures to fans of psyche foot soldiers such as the Black Angels, Wooden Shjips and Brian Jonestown. Criminally essential. www.squirrelrecords.co.uk
Neils Children ’I’m ill’ (structurally sound). Again another beat pop combo much loved around these parts - that is when we’ve heard their wares (which I must admit has been more seldom than occasional - grumble grumble) on our tip top hi-fi. We haven’t a clue how long this has been out or whether or not in fact its actually out at all safe to say Neils Children die hards will already have this no doubt playing it to submission and long since moved on in search of other NC goodies. Any how today we managed to snaffle a copy of a compilation called ’perfect as cats’ - a tribute to the Cure - featuring a whole host of bands such as Bats for Lashes, the Dandy Warhols, Devastations, Les Bicyclettes Blanches and many more besides (29 more to be precise) all doing various things to Smith and Co ear gear. Why do we mention this - well simply because ’I’m ill’ and for that matter its flip side ’terror at home’ both sound as though they’ve fallen out of the arse pocket of Mad Bob, in fact the chirpily effervescent ’I’m ill’ sounds very much like ’let’s go to bed’ era Cure sourly coated in a curiously affecting sweetly bitter tang with that happy / sad sentiment ringing through as though the Smiths ’heaven knows I’m miserable now’ had been played too fast, mind you there’s a killer rain swept twee appeal to it all - though they probably won’t thank me for saying it - that had us loosely recalling a four way collaboration between ’George Best’ era Weddoes, the Siddeleys, Hey Paulette and Johnny Marr - with of course Bob Cure on vocals. Glad we never cleared that one up. As said previously elsewhere flip side features the preferred ’terror at home’ - decidedly less frenetic than its other half but cut with an unerring cold edgy psychosis laced dread, all hollowed and chokingly tense spidery riffs cast fetchingly in a monochromatic post punk sheen that in truth had us rooting about the gaff for our treasured UK Decay records. Of course you want the blighter and who’d blame you. An album ’X.Enc’ lurks. www.neilschildren.co.uk
Cyan 341 ‘pattern 4’ (unchartered audio). If you want a copy of this then we suggest you get your skates on because word has it its extremely ultra limited and currently much loved by the Mary Anne Hobbs / Plaid crowd. Last featured in these pages to much love and affection (see missive 163) with the ultra limited ‘hex’ EP via those impeccable electro people over at Smallfish, this floor mooching twin set 10 inch sees Zainetica’s alter ego and founder of the ever excellent Rednetic imprint - (better known to friends and family as) Mark Streatfield siding up LJ Kruzer who gets to freewheel his critically acclaimed remix skills over on the flip. ‘pattern 4’ is a slick full bodied slice of nocturnal smoochiness that should by rights be doing sizeable swoon like damage on the coolest and more informed club floors near you pretty soon. As with ’Hex’ Streatfield continues his ongoing journey into 90’s club culture, blending sophisticated and slender Detroit techno dialects with hypnotic layers of spatial ambience all subtly rear guarded with delicate drills of mind warping dub - tronic accents that coalesce superbly into a mood arranging lunatic light show. Easily filed aside those prized slabs of wax by Biosphere and FSOL. Flip over for some sublimely layered slices of sophisticated minimalist groove from the in demand resources of LJ Kruzer who deftly strips away at the work surface of the original mix and gets to work applying an undercoat of frosted bitter sweet montages to much applauded great effect with the chilled down tempo ambient accents heightened wherein a stately chamber-esque quotient is brought to the equation making this something of a treat for those preferring their listening experiences enriched with a more personalised after dark lights dimmed transcendental aura. www.uncharteredaudio.com
The Pains at being pure at heart ’everything with you’ (Slumber land / Fortuna Pop). Doesn’t take much to confuse us - no sooner do we receive through the post a much cherished two track promo from those enviable tasty pop people of Fortuna Pop featuring a twin set of cuties from the simply adorable the pains at being pure at heart then we manage to nail the exact same record only this time pressed up on 7 inches of blue vinyl and heading out of Slumberland HQ a label who in all fairness we thought had long since given up the ghost being that it seems at least a decade or more since we heard anything by them. Anyhow back to the pains at being pure at heart - ‘everything with you’ is your pure unadulterated fix of dogs bollocks bright eyed and cute with it radiant pop the kind that makes you tingle from the inside out, lovingly sugar dipped in sheens of pulse racing effervescence and to these ears sounding not so dissimilar to the kind of stuff mined for your discerning delight by the likes of imprints such as Bus Stop, Summershine and HOL / MBV era Creation while blissfully gliding about your senses like some sun soaked honey combed slice of heart string tweaking bliss pop happily being crafted by a three way collaboration between the Pastels, Velvet Crush and early career Teenage Fanclub. Does it for us. Flip over for the equally adoring ‘the pains of being pure at heart’ - more hand holding sumptuous strides of C-86 cool pop, festooned with kaleidoscopic halos of sugar tipped wide eyed riff struts - of course its as twee as f**k but well tasty with bit like a studio kiss n’ cuddle between Creation era JMC and MBV if you must know. Buy on sight. Oh and did we mention we’ve also bagged ourselves an advance of their debut self titled full length platter which based on early plays (especially the track ‘this love is fucking right’) we suspect will and should be near the top of your wants list fairly soon. www.fortunapop.com www.slumberlandrecords.com
Kong ‘leather penny’ (brew). F**kin’ evil. I’m suspecting that fans of the mighty Kong would - had we let the review stand as such - have known exactly what we meant when we said ‘f**kin’ evil’ - mind you it probably wouldn’t have done much for those un-initiated souls among you - I mean Kaiser Chiefs are evil but there’s no way you’d ever get to a point wherein you could compare Kong to them not unless of course Kong had let things really slide (only joking Kaiser Chiefs - we love you really - honest - really really do). ’leather penny’ follows their much loved and dare we say furiously blistered ’blood of a dove’ release from a few weeks back - so punishing an outing that our hi-fi is still receiving counselling and I might add still wakes in the middle of the night with the shakes - though between you and me I think its got a thing going with the I-pod - dirty bastard. Where were we - ah yes Kong - one much loved single under their belt and rumour has it an album in the offing due out early next year entitled ’snake magnet’ from which this festering beauty is culled. ’leather penny’ is a mentally challenged frantic and frayed fucked up slice of retarded and bludgeoned blues groove, an impishly caustic volcanic war faring spree that seemingly sets its sights on the wayward monotone charms of PIL’s ’Metal Box’ and sets about pummelling its matrix amid a jarring, dislocated and detached swamp infested grind that to these ears sounds not unlike a drop dead and deranged illicit studio meeting between Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, the Melvins and Jesus Lizard - need we say more. Stunning in a word. www.brewrecords.net
School of Seven Bells ‘face to face on high places’ (table of elements). Yes yes yes - I know its been out for ages, you’ve probably got it, played it to destruction and long since moved on in search of the latest nu thang in town - and before you ask no we haven’t previously mislaid this only to find it gathering dust deserving of a review ages ago. In fact we actually picked it up yesterday - yes yes I know I’m slow with these things - but it was included in a batch of the latest instalments of that superb ‘guitar series’ being put out by Table of the Elements - you know the sorts - one sided 12 inch releases all on coloured vinyl featuring vinyl etchings by Savage Pencil, each instalment (I think there are 15 in total) handing over the groove space to a specially invited guest for them to fill with all manner of guitar induced minimalism, experimentalism, manipulation, droning or processing - in fact whatever takes their fancy all said and done. So far we’ve had some excellent stuff by Lee Ranaldo and Oren Ambarchi (see album review) while the as yet unheard treats we’ve just secured for ourselves feature Belong, David Daniell and Andrew Burnes reviews for which you can expect imminently. Meanwhile back to School of Seven Bells - a 12 inch pressed up on 12 inches of clear wax featuring three cuts on one side and laser etching on ’t’other - this is combo features the collective talents of Benjamin Curtis ex of Secret Machines, Joe Stickney (drummer for Rhys Chatham) and Alejandra and Claudia Deheza of On!Air!Library! fame. ’face to face on high places’ is one of those releases primed for those space cadets among you who love your sounds strange, ethereal and bliss driven in nature, parting cuts for instance ’S.Ada.Licht’ is a disturbingly alluring bouquet of crooked and trippy hallucinatory angulated cosmic folk that shapes up as sounding like some weird dream sequence wherein mid career Stereolab are found shimmying up to a classic period Fairport Convention - there - bet that’s got your inquisitive juices a flowing I know it has mine - in fact we were nearly booking a second copy until we realised we already had it. That said strangely it isn’t even the best track here. ’limb by limb’ the opening cut mooches about with irregular unease beautifully casting a divinely hazy aura eked on by skewiff time signatures, dislocated rhythms and strange avant dub dialects, at times very much reminiscent of that rather wonderful though criminally overlooked Heather Duby debut with the Deheza sisters cross weaving a deliriously mantra like vocal signature to the proceedings. Best moment of the set by far though is the title cut ’face to face on high places’ - a gloriously triumphant and radiant slab of attention surrendering bliss laden soaring dream pop that had we not known better we’d have sworn was a match made in heaven meting of minds between Quickspace and MBV replete with the occasional nod to the Pixies’ fade out riffage from ’motorway to Roswell’ - can almost picture this laying waste to indie club floors - perhaps it already has who knows. www.tableoftheelements.com
Quarter Blind ’bleeding the guilty’ (QB Music). Not strictly out and about until the new year but well worth taking notes and making sure you pester your local record emporium about. Quarter Blind are a Southampton based five piece who craft out the kind of brutalised tension laced apocalyptic dread that those of you mourning the passing of Mendeed may do well to check out. Already acquitting themselves with the self release of their debut full length ’bleeding the guilty’ this latest offering or should that be sacrifice has been holding our hi-fi hostage since arriving in our gaff today. While they mightn’t yet be a match for that behind the sofa festering aggression of Mendeed there’s more than enough evidence of hell pit sickening rage being restlessly exorcised between the grooves. Appealing to fans of Carcass, Nepalm Death and Extreme Noise Terror et al ’bleeding the guilty’ is about and at you from the word go, a scalding and punitive bastard of a track metered out with an end of days fury, puss stricken grinds, Iron Maiden riffage and blessed with a vocal (Daryl Self) that sounds like its crawled from the other side intent on gathering souls the only complaint to be had is that at 3.23 onwards it takes its foot off the gas and goes a little self indulgent in an Ozzy type way. ’breaching exit’ over on the flip is a titanic take no prisoners tour de force - a rampant all out aggressive assault so acutely delivered we suspect it could peel skin from faces just through handling - we really must nail that album sharpishly. www.myspace.com/quarterblind
Street cleaner ‘mother curse’ EP (give praise). One of then little gripes of doing these review type things is the lack of hard core punk records that we get to see coming in our direction, it gets to a point that when they do on the rare occasion appear that they’re immediately flung onto the turntable with the volume cranked up up to maximum much to the untold joy of our neighbours. From the same imprint that brought the delights of Deep Shit, Trendy Bastard, Operation Eat Shit and Kids of Carnage - band names I’m sure you’ll agree who promise unbridled turntable damage even before you’ve heard a note played. Back to the Street Cleaners - it appears we’ve been plagued by issues with this 8 track seven inch, first of all the stylus hole is off centre making the listening feast a little skewiff which has been exasperated when flipping the disc over wherein a slight kink in the vinyl has caused the whole thing to sound demented and warped. Alas we soldier on. Streetcleaner hail from Texas and are part of the emerging blaster core scene which is like the old school hardcore scene with a make over and a fancy new generic title I suppose. As said 8 tracks feature within each unloading copious amounts of vented venom and speaker punishing pogo-ing carnage and each clocking in just short of the one minute ticker tape with much frantic doom laced verve. The sound ranging from grizzled dismembered swamp emerging punk blues as on the opening four cuts ’mind control’, ’spotlight’, ’shield’ and ’vice grip pt 1’ - the latter cut being particular infected with a soul sapping grind core grimness though that may have something to do with the pressing of the vinyl (see earlier) to all out attrition loaded assault. That said it’s the quartet of pile driven juggernauts over on the flip that caught our ear - loosely recalling Black Flag, Mayhem et al and instilled with a likewise unerring threat the only difference being with Black Flag that despite their anger and the intimated suggestion that they where going to kick your head in you get the feeling that in reality they’d knuckle down and share a beer with you whereas this lot probably would kick your head in ransack your pockets for loose change and get the beers in in your name. www.givepraiserecords.com
The Ex Men ’the curator’ (beanstalk). Arrived today and has caused nothing but fuss since finding its way onto the turntable. The debut single no less from the Ex Men who we’re hazarding a guess you’ll be hearing more of in the not to distant future and beyond. Featuring ex Boyracer Matt Green, the story briefly goes something like this - Jack Sims records some poetry with the help of Tristan Abgrail while in Paris on returning to Scotland he mentions said recordings to Matt who keen to hear them is much impressed so much so that he rewires the whole thing via some nifty Logic software the first fruits of which you’ll find on this annoying catchy twin set. ‘the curator’ opens to an ear pining overload of wiring communications recalling a buzz sawing jagged and jarred Plastic Bertrand, frantic and frenetic its up close and personal in an instant insidiously burrowing itself beneath your skin, elements of Arab Strap, Rooney and the Fall briefly flicker about in an instant the dead pan monotone vocals fenced and framed by the clamour of fuzzed riff struts serving to give it an unhinged ’parklife’ appeal - albeit that’ll be ’parklife’ belted into submission by an acutely chirpy sounding 70 Gwen Party - once in earshot this caustic pop minded cutie will do your scon in. Flip side for the cleverly titled ’Godot on call waiting’ which features a slice of mesmeric and funky electro groove acting as a backdrop in a 70’s styled public information advertisement way to some random telephony conversation nonsense - its all a bit strange and odd but that’s the way we love our ear gear here and anyway if you fancy being really fazed then you should check the decidedly creepy and odd ‘cursed fantasy control mix’ which you can avoid / saviour - your choice - via their my space page - perhaps the first record (and hopefully the last - can’t have that when I’m tucking into a rare done fillet) ever to make after birth its topical theme. www.myspace.com/theexmen
http://www.myspace.com/themondayjustpop - we’re thinking the Monday are the first band we’ve ever featured to hail from West Java, Indonesia - a five piece led from the front by the demurring vocal talents of Steva whose delivery and sound has that same alluring softness as the Cranberries Delores O’Riordan as though fused with the seductive calm of Le Man’s Jone Gabarain (especially on the opening cut ‘masa yang t‘lah lalu‘), the songs lovelorn bitter sweet pop bouquets that shyly tingle and softly serenade to reveal a collective much attuned to the ear gear of your typical twee loving indie kid. Describing themselves as a power pop combo though in all honesty that only reveals itself on the longing sugar tipped lilt of ’meringis terpendam that said best moment by far and the cut that had us swooning fondly is ‘dia indah’ a wide eyed cutie lushly framed by needling braids of Clock Strikes 13 styled chimes and delicately touched by the same magic dust that once upon a time adorned the likes of the Sundays and Frente. Think we need to hear more.
The Foxes ‘trauma town’ (Room 10). More addictively honed from the other side of the tracks council estate boogaloo with which to terrorise your hi-fi with and have your toes a tapping a wildly, the Foxes are a London based quartet who blend catchy as f**k melodies with a disarming and devilishly acute shanty like ska-tastic laced melodic throb that spits and spurts into action replete with wiring struts and the odd use of the word tw*t before rushing through the gears and seeing itself out in a frantic nuts down rollercoaster finale. Flip over for ’hey baby!’ which title alone has you pausing in the aisles for a second wondering whether to walk away now while its still safe, mind you any lingering notions that this is going to be a listening experience that had you been blessed with foresight you’d have happily swapped for a spot of jabbing the eyes with a needle are soon rested. The stronger of the cuts in our view - well at least it doesn’t sound like they’ve missed the London guitar combo band wagon instigated by the Li*er*i**s way back in some dark distant past, instead this ‘babe’ is something of a 60’s fixated slice of pop orientated garage beat boogie laced with harmonies aplenty and all decked out in paisley shirts and winkle picker booties and carrying a shed load of Who records under their collective arm whilst sounding as though they’ve literally just stumbled out of a Mersey sound talent night at the Cavern. You folks these days - tut - well smart by the way. www.thefoxesband.com
Sergeant Buzfuz ‘here come the popes - part 3’ (blang). More impish pop found straying left of centre via those loveable taste makers Blang who in recent times have pleasured our hi-fi with such rare confectionary pop treats from the likes of Dexter Bentley and David Cronenberg’s Wife. Next up Sergeant Buzfuz who according to the press blurb currently flitting about in web world continue their on going investigation into the Papacy’s sordid past with this rather neat red wax seven inch offering entitled ‘here come the popes (part 3)’. Not a sniff of your usually cumbersome stereotyping band wagon hopping here - no sir it seems Sergeant Buzfuz prefer to mine pop plots either totally ignored by others or passed up by today’s riff slinging hopefuls for fear it’ll be too much hard work. ’here come the popes’ is a wonderfully lazy and lolloping affair flashed through with liberal doses of wintry cast celebratory brass fanfares that appear to tumble and trip across the grooves with an almost pie eyed punch drunk candour as though instigated by an after hours drinking session between the Dexy’s and Robyn Hitchcock - darn I can feel that fuzzy glowing feeling growing again. Flip side the decidedly odd and strange ’dentist to the stars’ - apparently a tale of a dentist who dreams of killing celebrity patients as they recline to states of slumber to the sound of a dulcimer - frankly these kids need to get out more or else lay off the cheese before bedtime - anyhow its unsettling and spooked which when you bear in mind who their label mates are (clue - it rhymes with David Cronenberg’s Wife) unsurprisingly appears par for the course. Expect a full length in the shape of ‘high slang’ to worry turntables early next year. Next Blang release comes courtesy of old missive favourites Milk Kan - we’ll see if we can nail a copy for review. www.blang.co.uk
http://www.myspace.com/themountainmovers - hands up who thinks the Butterflies of Love are one of the most criminally underrated bands around at the moment and lest we forget that in ‘rob a bank‘ they delivered one of the best debuts of the 90‘s. Gets so bad in our gaff that when they go on these extended sabbaticals our hi-fi goes into darkened states of melancholia much in need of intensive counselling. Perhaps Dan Greene (vocals / guitarist with B.o.L.) feels the same because he’s only gone and formed a band on the side and put out two full lengths in the shape of ’lets open up the chest’ and ’we walked in hell and there is life after death’ via the New Haven imprint Safety Meeting - both of which have so for alluded both our radar and turntable to much - I should add - distress and dismay. As to the tunes (5 are showcased here incidentally) - well what can we say - while most extra curricula activities undertaken by some may well be an excuse to either experiment or inflate their ego, Greene has it seems been biding his time and holding back on a few self penned goodies and surfaced with a collection of killer tunes that match the eloquence and unassuming grandeur of the Butterflies of Love blow for blow. Those of you with fairly decent memories may well recall a rather smart debut release by a North East (Newcastle if I recall rightly) based band at turn of the decade called Jumbo, when I mention this (aside the fact that great lost bands always deserve the occasional mention) is because ’when I die’ is a ringer for them, this bourbon soaked beauty manages to make even the miserable seem somehow a cause for celebration, absolutely stunning - in fact so stunning you are advised to desist in whatever you are doing right this minute and be prepared to be blown away for the best three minutes you’ll hear in a fair old while. Both ushering in a tear stained and humbled aspect marinated with an elated bitter sweet glow this timelessly crafted gem stone will have you smiling while literally drowning in your own tears, lushly swept with the breezy fanfares of brass billowing funereal glows, delicately murmuring campfire waltzes and smokily distilled with a soulful blues tang that’s cast with a subtle gospel like spiritualism this arresting slice of perfection sounds like its been unearthed from a long lost Chess / Charly vault - in short imagine a youthful Dylan collaborating with Chicken Shack. And just when you’re gathering your composure the blighters go and hit you between the eyes with ‘last chance for summer’ - a radiantly honey combed key drenched soft psyche cutie that again sounds like another 60’s flashback which should appeal in the main to fans of early Mercury Rev and Neutral Milk Hotel. ’in their hands’ offers a spot of impishly fractured kaleidoscopic carnival kookiness while both ’I met the devil on the bus’ and ’what the devil wants’ temper the mood to smoking, the latter sounding not unlike a prime time ’Aftermath’ era Stones while the former could easily have been cut by the ridiculously underrated Hefner. We’re off to nail those albums and that must have split picture disc with Titles - I suggest you do to.
That’s your lot for now - more - hopefully - later plus upcoming (missive 178) will be a Filthy Little Angels special.
As per usual contact info - email mark@losingtoday.com - snail mail 105 shaldon drive, morden, surrey, sm4 4bq, uk - updates at www.myspace.com/thesundayexperrience
