Archive for the ‘Reviews’ Category

9th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Sometimes, when a band has forged its sound with the assistance of quality producers, there’s a niggle of concern when they decide to go it alone. Why are they doing this? Why now? Have they become overconfident in their abilities?

Eva Sheldrake explains the decision: “We’ve worked with incredible producers, and we’ve taken so much from every experience, but with Get With Me, it all came together so naturally that we knew Jude had to produce it. We caught lightning in a bottle—the energy is real, it’s raw, and it’s straight from the heart. The song channels something a lot of women go through but don’t always get the space to talk about. Instead of letting it fester, we flipped it on its head and made it ours. It’s fierce, it’s defiant, and it’s exactly what Eville stands for.”

The fact that it was simply something that happened, that felt right, matters, and that’s significant. More significant, though, is the fact that there was simply no cause for concern, as they’ve absolutely mastered the sound they’re after here. The track dives in with the fattest, filthiest bass grind, and then the guitar is a dense wall of distortion, and then Eva’s vocals are sassy but keenly melodic, and there are layers of harmony in the mix and once again, they’ve mined solid gold. Balancing crunching juggernaut grungy / nu-metal riffery – something about both the sound and structure of the musical elements are reminiscent of Filter here – with a pop sensibility which comes through in the vocals, ‘Get With Me’ has got the lot.

And if the title suggests some kind of schmaltzy romantic allure, think again. This is Eville, and they are not to be fucked with. The mid-section brings all the grunt and threatening fists like a menacing bodyguard looming forward, before the full-throttle finish. The message of ‘Get With Me’ is really ‘get real’ – and it’s driven home hard , with brutal force. Yep, Eville have done it again….

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Christopher Nosnibor

With grassroots venues closing at an alarming – and depressing – rate, there are fewer and fewer places for bands with a smaller draw, and new acts, to play. Meanwhile, particularly since the pandemic, Working Men’s Clubs have also been in decline or otherwise struggling. But as The Brudenell in Leeds and The Crescent in York have demonstrated, WMC make ideal gig venues, with a well-appointed room with a stage which is simply ideal. And so it is that the organisers of previous all-dayers in York at the now-closed Vaults have scoured the city for a new home, unveiling a brand new ‘Utterly Fuzzled’ stage banner to mark simultaneously a fresh start and a rebirth of sorts.

The advertised lineup included a number of acts who are no strangers to the York scene, or to these virtual pages – certainly solid enough to get me and plenty of others to an out-of-town venue before 4:30pm on a broiling hot Saturday afternoon.

Pete Dale, who also happens to be the guitarist in Knitting Circle, got things going with a solo set of Milky Wimpshake songs, with a couple of covers tossed in for good measure, before Fat Spatula stepped things up with the first full-band set of the occasion.

Every time I see Fat Spatula it’s like experiencing a different band, with different facets of their sound seemingly presenting themselves and pushing through to the fore. Going for a set of high-energy roustabout songs, they’re good fun, and some people dance.

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Fat Spatula

Soma Crew start slow with ‘Hey Sister’, and it’s a set that focuses on the mellower, gentler stuff. You never know what you’re going to get with Soma Crew, from lineup to set, but one thing is always assured, and that’s drummer Nick’s T-shirt. About halfway through they finally kick things up a notch with their first Motorik groove, when they come on like Hawkwind playing Sister Ray. It’s not until the last track that they pick up the tempo and let the drone diffing spin out. People don’t dance. It simply wasn’t that kind of set.

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Soma Crew

In these troubling times, Knitting Circle’s commitment to being an issues-driven band is something I find both stirring and in no small way quite moving. It shouldn’t seem like a bold thing to be staunchly anti-war and sing about it, but this is seemingly where we are now, and the fact they have some cracking tunes with two and three-way vocals and choppy Gang of Four style guitars makes seeing them an uplifting experience – and they’re consistently good, too.

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Knitting Circle

The next couple of acts aren’t local, but they are both absolutely outstanding. Glasgow’s Slime City bring energetic punky tunes, matching zipper tops, and a size nine shoe with knobs on that does something to the guitar. They have a few gimmicks, but they’re worked into the set in a way that’s knowing and humorous without being cringey. And they have TUNES. Said tunes are led by some outstanding drumming – tight, crisp, a bit disco in places. ‘Never Stop Giving Up’ goes a bit poppy, a bit Prince, but more oftentimes, they’re rather reminiscent of Future of the Left.

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Slime City

Irked take things to a whole other level: fierce, ferocious, tight, they’re blistering from beginning to end. I didn’t really take any notes during their set. But what’s to say about a band with such a fearsome frontwoman who charges about the room howling a fill-throated roar against a full-throttle twin-guitar attack interspersed with some good-natured between-song banter with a strong North-Eastern twist from the guitarist. The vitriol is real, but so is the fact they have a clear sense of humour.

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Irked

Now, the last time I saw Crumbs was a rather difficult night, when they supported Dream Nails. They were great, although their performance was rather eclipsed by subsequent events. It’s a pleasure to see them under more friendly circumstances: they’re good fun, and worthy headliners. There’s more inter-band crossover, as Jamie Wilson who does guitar / synths / vocals for Knitting Circle is also Crumbs’ bassist, and paired with Gem’s easy drumming style. with minimal kit – bass, floor tom, snare, hi-hat – they play straight-up indie that’s accessible and quite simply great fun.

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Crumbs

And ultimately, fun is what this is all about. The sense of community is heartwarming. A lot of those present are in bands – and not the bands playing – but there are also plenty of faces often seen at local gig, as well as many who aren’t, but hopefully events like this will entice them out more often. And with a decent enough range of bottled beers at £3.70 ago, and good quality sound throughout, Fulfordgate WMC has strong potential to become a more regular venue. Real credit has to go to Jo Dale, bassist with Knitting Circle, for her curation, organisation, and promotion of such an adventurous DIY event. Here’s to much more Fuzzlement in the future.

Sister 9 Recordings – 9th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Since showcasing single cut ‘Discretion’ last month, I’ve been totally gripped by this new EP by Italian post-punk electro duo Kill Your Boyfriend.

There’s something about the consistent use of one-word titles that adds punch. The complete catalogue of Foetus albums is a strong case in point: Hole, Nail, Gash Blow… Four letters, forming a single syllable, prove to be powerfully evocative, even when there is no context – or perhaps more so because there is no context.

The titles of the six songs on here are rather less abstract, more descriptive, but still strong and evocative in isolation: ‘Ego’, ‘Obsession’, ‘Apathy’… words with emotional connotations, words which plug straight into the beating heart of the human condition. And, just as ‘Discretion’ threatened, Disco Kills is a full-on sonic kicking that registers blows from every direction.

It’s all about that throbbing, hard-hitting rhythm section, and once again, I feel compelled to sing in praise of the drum machine. Much-maligned and still contentious when used in a ‘rock’ context, the relentless thud and crash of programmed percussion can be so compelling – hypnotic, yes, but also in the way it registers in a purely physical way, the toppy snare explosion sending shockwaves through the nervous system while setting eardrums quivering. From Suicide to Uniform via Metal Urbain, The Sisters of Mercy and Big Black, there’s a rich lineage of bands for whom a drum machine used well – and at an appropriate level in the mix – absolutely defines the sound. It doesn’t work for a lot of rock acts because they’re more about having a certain flexibility, but for absolutely smashing the senses with precision timekeeping, drum machines really come into their own, especially when solid, four-square basslines which follow the beats with equal precision are involved.

And so it is that for all the mesh of treble and distortion, Kill Your Boyfriend structure these songs around a punishing rhythm section. No fancy fills or extravagant bass runs – just hammering, solid grooves, which underscore all the rest. I say ‘all the rest’ as if it’s somehow lesser. It isn’t, not by a long shot. ‘Obsession’ would be dancefloor-friendly – to the point you could imagine people turning and clapping in time with the crispy snap of the vintage Akai snare sound, were it not for its dark, distorted vocal. ‘Apathy’ a bubbling dance banger that’s twisted by some dissonant chord changes and an echo-soaked shouty vocal, the end result sounding like The Prodigy remixing Alien Sex Fiend. Apathetic it is not: a Hi-NRG banger with a dark, serrated edge, it is.

They do trancey / shoegaze / synthwavey lightness on ‘Illusion’, which offers an unexpected – and unexpectedly welcome – pause for breath. But although it pulls back on the breakneck pace and abrasion of the tracks which both precede and succeed it, ‘Illusion’ is still dense, richly textured, and overtly beat-driven, with a thick, churning bass lurking beneath. It just doesn’t drive as hard or as aggressively, with an altogether gentler vocal delivery, and it builds tension with twisty guitars with strong echoes of the sound of 1984. Yes, it’s a bit gothy, and it sits well, and all of this means that the thick, buzzy, echoey electrogoth stomp of ‘Discretion’ hits even harder after the lull, highlighting just what an absolute beast it is. And make no mistake: it’s a pumping, pulverising dark disco monster. It’s brashy, it’s trashy, not so much a car crash as a flaming, petrol-tank-exploding pileup with Sheep on Drugs, Selfish Cunt, KMFDM, and Sigue Sigue Sputnik. It’s an instant adrenaline spike, a rush of pure exhilaration.

‘Youth’ begins darkly but offer something more buoyant as a bookend to the EP, like an electro Sex Pistols, it echoes and bounced its way in a rush to the end. It does feel like a rather flimsy add-on, but works in terms of bringing things down again to wrap it up.

Disco Kills is solid and fierce from beginning to end – and while it’s predominantly electronic in its instrumentation, it’s also very much rock, and it’s pure punk all the way.

AA

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Peter Murphy – Silver Shade – Metropolis Records – 9th May 2025

David J Haskins – The Mother Tree – Erototox Decodings – 6 June 2025

Christopher Nosniobor

It seems quite incredible that following a debut single which alone created a whole new genre, Bauhaus would release four definitive studio albums in just three years. The chemistry and creative crackle which existed between the four members was something special, and, judging by the 2008 reunion album Go Away White something that was very much of the moment.

While all four members remained active after the split in 1983, subjectively speaking, none of them have really replicated the same quality, or consistency, despite Love and Rockets – Daniel Ash, Kevin Haskins, and brother David J enjoying a degree of success with their more overtly pop-orientated rock sound.

The release of new albums by both Peter Murphy and David J within a month of each other affords an opportunity to observe just how different their respective creative trajectories have been, and also perhaps offers some insight into why Bauhaus reformations haven’t been entirely successful, with a 2022 tour of the US being cancelled, Murphy entering rehab, and the reunion ending.

Both of these albums are very much art-orientated, albeit approaching said art from almost diametric angles.

Murphy’s latest offering isn’t strictly a solo effort. Initially released as a standalone single, ‘Let the Flowers Grow’, which now closes the album as a ‘bonus track’, is a duet with Boy George, and much of the material on the album was co-written with Youth, who also produced it. Silver Shade contains twelve tracks and has a running time of fifty-nine minutes. As such, it’s a longish album, and the crisp 80s-sounding production, while suited to the material, dates it somewhat.

‘Swoon’ is classic Murphy in full-on Bowie mode, with a dash of Lou Reed and some grandiose electropop leanings. But if the bassline is lifted from The Sisters of Mercy’s ‘This Corrosion’, something about the swinging pop groove is actually closer to Springsteen’s ‘Dancing in the Dark’. You can clearly hear Bauhaus in all of this, but it’s predominantly in the vocals – perhaps not entirely surprisingly. And at five and a half minutes, it feels a bit laboured.

‘Hot Roy’ is Outside era Bowie crossed with Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’ and The Associates. It’s poppy, it’s high drama, and it’s an early high point in an album that’s solid enough, but rarely spectacular. ‘The Artroom Wonder’ was an obvious single choice, but does sound like so many other things chucked into a blender, and elsewhere, the title track brings some dark glam vibes, and while it’s big on theatre, it’s not quite so big on substance, and feels rather predictable.

Predictable is not a word which can be applied to David J Haskins’ The Mother Tree, an album which is released in tandem with a book of poems, Rhapsody, Threnody & Prayer, both a tribute to his mother. As such, it’s a spoken word album with musical accompaniment, and, for context, it’s worth quoting that ‘David J’s decision to release these projects under his birth name, “Haskins,” (the name his brother Kevin used in both their bands together: Bauhaus and Love and Rockets) underscores their deep familial and emotional significance to him. He calls The Mother Tree, “my most personal work yet.”’ And that personal aspect rings out loud and clear, including as it does ‘profound reflections on life, love, loss, and touching tributes to late cultural icons and artists including Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain, Jeff Buckley, Jack Kerouac and Mark Linkous.’ We feel and experience loss on different levels, and Haskins in no way suggests the loss of his mother is the same experience as the passing of a friend or an artist one admires: this is an exploration of the muti-faceted experience of loss and the way they all leave a different kind of void in one’s life.

The first piece – the title track – is a twenty-one minute piano-led meditation with subtle strings as the musical backdrop to a descriptive, linear narrative tale. There is a simplicity about it, not to mention an immediacy and directness. ‘this is a personal sacred story’, he says in the early stages of this patchwork of scenes which depict moments of his mother’s life. While the instrumentation is perhaps synonymous with high art, the words and their delivery are unpretentious, a flow of recollections and reminiscences, some harrowing, heart-rending, and all so real. Because life is often harrowing and heart-rending. ‘I miss your laugh’, he says openly, before effusing about perfect Sunday roasts. ‘Loved and lost’ is the succinct and poignant summary of the composition, and one which runs through the album as a whole. The other four tracks are substantially shorter, most around six minutes in duration, with almost folksy instrumentation and more contemplative spoken-word narratives, rich in little details which render them all the more vivid. There’s something almost unfiltered about it, and it feels so resonatingly human.

It sits at the opposite end of the spectrum from Murphy’s album: it’s art without artifice, a richly-woven tapestry where emotion is subtly laced through every moment.

These two albums may provide some indication of how the individual members brought specific traits to Bauhaus in the early years, and provide some measure of how they came to be increasingly divergent over time. Murphy’s album is clearly the more accessible, and will likely receive more coverage and acclaim, and reach a far wider audience, and be lauded and cherished by many. But for me, although The Mother Tree is a very different beast and challenging on a number of levels, it has a deeper resonance, and connects on a deeper level.

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Room40 – 9th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Merzbow is an artist who requires little to no introduction, and one with a catalogue so immense – with in excess of five hundred releases credited – it’s beyond daunting for not only a beginner, but even a keen noise-lover. This is the reasons I personally own very few releases, and have only picked up a few incidentally along the way.

As Masami Akita approaches seventy, and Merzbow marks forty-five years of noise, this output shows little sign of abating, but it does seem an appropriate time to reflect on some previous releases which may be considered either ‘classic’ or ‘pivotal’. 1994s Venereology has been receiving some retrospective coverage of late, revered largely on account of its reputation for being the loudest, harshest thing ever, ever.

But here we have a reissue of The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue, released a couple of years later, a much lesser-known work, but still during what’s broadly considered to be the golden era of the 90s, and, as the accompanying notes suggest, it’s ‘one of a series of unique editions from his vast catalogue that reveals a side of his practice often under represented.’

During the late 1980s and into the 1990s, Masami Akita was sometimes working on film and theatre music. In this space he created a series of recordings that capture the full scope of his sound worlds.

Given the nature of these settings, his compositional approaches were varied, seeking to create both intensely crushing walls of sound and more spatial, and at times rhythmic, pieces that plot out an approach to sound making which atomises his universe of sound, and uncovered the singular detail that is often consumed in the whole.

The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue is the soundtrack to the theatre piece Akutoku no Sakae/Bitoku no Fuko by Romantica. Based on Marquis de Sades’s Historie de Juliette ou les Prosperités du vice & Les Infortunes de la vertu, this recording was originally released with limited distribution and remains one of the lesser available Merzbow recordings.

Completely remastered and contains an additional cut from those original sessions, this reissue of The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue presents nineteen blasts of noise and rumbling and shrieking, scraping discord and dissonance. Many of the pieces are brief – a couple of minutes or so – and there is so much texture and tonal rage here, its sonic vision is remarkable. To many, of course, it will just ne noise – horrible, nasty, uncoordinated noise. But listen closer, and there is a lot happening here. The noise is, indeed, nasty, and the output is, brain-blasting chaos, for sure. But what these untitled pieces showcase is an intense focus and an attention to detail which is so much more than brutal noise. The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue is, comparatively speaking, not that harsh – although when it is harsh, it’s absolutely next-level brutal with shards of treble exploding in walls of ear-shredding punishment. It contains a lot of clattering and crashing, like bin lids being dropped, and cyclical, thrumming rhythmic pulsations. There are tweets and flutters, bird-like chirrups flittering above cement-mixer churning grind with gnawing low-end and splintering treble, overloading grind and would oscillations.

The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue is the sound of a man pushing all the buttons and turning all the dials at once and seeing just how far he can tweak them. There are moments of minimalism, of slow, stuttering beats, of mere crackles, passages one might even describe as ambient – a word not commonly associated with Merzbow. But the way in which The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue explores these dynamics, and contains quieter more delicate segments, not to mention some bleepy electronica that borders on beat-free dance in places, is remarkable: while so much noise is simply repellent to anyone who isn’t attuned to it, The Prosperity Of Vice, The Misfortune Of Virtue offers engagement and offers openings to listeners with a broader interest in experimental music.

Eclectic is the word: we hear a chamver orchestra at the same time we hear strings being bent out of shape and what sounds like a Theremin in distress. While a fire alarm squawks in the background. This is everything including the kitchen sink. Imaginative and experimental, it’s noise with infinite dimensions.

AA

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Mortality Tables – 25th April 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

The twenty-eighth instalment of the truly epic project by the Mortality Tables label, now in its third season, whereby artists respond to ‘Recordings of places, people, objects, moments in time, environments and quotidian events [which] are shared with a range of artists working across different disciplines’, and where ‘Those artists are free to respond to the recordings in any way they like’ is one of the shorter ones, consisting of just the one track, with a running time of just over eight and a half minutes.

For this work, the source recording was ‘made by Mat Smith at SkyForce, Flambards amusement park, Helston, Cornwall on 16th August 2021.’

I don’t envy him gathering this, and in his shoes, returning home with some audio would be a significant victory as something salvaged from a day of personal hell. But there is more to this – a tale of dilapidation and of capitalism in decline.

There’s a certain grim fasciation in following the history of theme park rides. Rollercoasters have a habit of being relocated, renamed, repurposed, even reborn in the wake of accidents. The Beast at Alton Towers was tweaked and relaunched as The New Beast, and was later shipped to Mexico , where it became Divertidoi, and it then made its way to Columbia.

A bit of delving tells us that SkyForce ‘operated at Pleasure Island Family Theme Park from 2003 until the closure of the park in 2016 under the name Pendulus’, and reopened at Flambards in 2017. Then, according to coasterpedia.net. ‘on 5 June 2024, Flambards announced that Sky Force, along with Hornet, Sky Swinger, and Thunderbolt, had closed and would be removed… On 22 August 2024, Flambards announced that the decision to remove Sky Force was reversed as they were able to replace the main motor. Sky Force reopened after this. Just little over two months later, Sky Force closed with the park as Flambards Theme Park announced that the park would permanently close on November 4, 2024…The ride is now currently listed for sale after the park’s closure.’ And shit: once again I’ve spent in excess of an hour delving down rabbit-holes while reviewing just a few minutes of music.

But this.. this is a slice of history. But no, there are layers to this, too: it’s a reinterpretation of a slice of history. This is how history forms and reforms and mutates as events are subject to endless critiques and commentaries. There is no irrefutable truth, no one concrete history… although there are verifiable facts, a topic which is worthy of a deep interrogation elsewhere.

Skyrocketing is perhaps not the rush its context may seem to offer, but a gently bubbling electronic piece that has a soft, bubbling analogue vibe. It has that vintage synth feel and evokes Kraftwerk , rippling and wafting, skipping and drifting., sometimes occasionally skippering and twittering, before the pulsing beats, stuttering, erratic, pulse and punch us that it’s time to wake up. And it is. Wake up to all the shit. Don’t think that just because a work is mellow that isn’t strong – because this is both.

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Ipecac Recordings – 9th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

mclusky was one of those bands which built a cult following without ever really breaking through in the period they were active, in the period which spanned from 1996-2005. None of the greats are ever appreciated in their time, of course. Their albums would fetch premium prices second-hand, in the years after they called it a day, and my local Oxfam had prohibitively-priced copies of a couple of them for a while, which got progressively more tired and shelf-worn. With Future of the Left, Andrew Falkous found a wider audience while still doing much of the same, but as loved as they became, there was always a sense among fans that ‘they’re bloody brilliant… but they’re not mclusky’.

Of course, nostalgia has a large part to play here, and it’s almost inevitable that practically no second or subsequent band, however popular or successful, will experience the same affection as their forebears, unless, perhaps, they’re The Foo Fighters, in which case that affection is misplaced anyway.

mclusky flirted with occasional comebacks, while Falkous would release solo work as Christian Fitness. But, somewhat unexpectedly, the Wikipedia note on Mcluskyism (2006) that ‘This compilation is, without doubt, the final chapter in Mclusky’s nine-year saga, as Falkous informs in the Mcluskyism liner notes, “that’s it, then. No farewell tour… no premature deaths (at time of writing), no live DVDs…”’ First, there was the EP unpopular parts of a pig in 2023, and now, here we have it: their first full-length album in a full two decades. What has happened? I really don’t know, but seemingly from nowhere, a stack of bands from the Jesus Lizard to Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, have re-emerged with their first new albums in twenty years or more, and they’ve not been some second-rate, tepid late- (or even post-) career cash-ins, but up there with the best of their work.

‘Is it any good?’ people will be asking. ‘Is it as good as the old stuff?’ Anyone who has heard lead single, ‘way of the exploding dickhead’ will probably already be thinking that the answer to both of these questions is in the affirmative, and they would be right. the world is still here and so are we is indeed up there. As they put it, ‘it was important not to cos-play the past but also not to flubbity-flub over everything like a gang of big stupid flubs.’ Yeah,. There’s definitely no flubbing, or flab here. This is lean and full-on, and sheer quality.

It’s ‘unpopular parts of a pig’ which launches the album in a scratchy blast of cutty treble, a skewe(re)d tumult of stop / start angular punk which is frantic and irreverent, compressing elements of Nirvana and Shellac and Butthole Surfers, Dead Kennedys, and the Jesus Lizard into a manic two minutes and twenty-one seconds.

It was often the case, especially in the 70s, 80s, and 90s – before streaming, essentially, but while record company exploitation and the industry gravy train was racing at a seemingly unstoppable pace – that the singles, which would lure you in to buy an album, were the only decent songs on it, and you’d feel pretty bummed and short-changed at having forked out £7.50 for an LP or cassette – unless if had been one of your bonus purchases through Britannia Music – when you might as well have just paid 99p for the 7” and not bothered with the album. This may still be the case in some instances, now that the album format is supposedly dead in the world of the mainstream, where people only stream the songs they know already as part of the playlist they’ll loop for weeks, but beyond the mainstream, it feels like the album is stronger than ever, and acts are committed to making albums which are 100% quality from beginning to end. This certainly rings true for the world is still here and so are we.

Of the album’s thirteen songs, only three are over three minutes in duration, and it feels like there’ve compressed and distilled everything to achieve peak intensity. The bass is absolutely immense, a thunderous boom that dominates the sound, leaving room for Falkous’ guitar to wander and explore sinewy tripwire picked lead parts and discordant textures.

‘people person’ also released as a single, lands with a swagger and showcases a gutsy bass-led groove, while also highlighting the sarcastic, ironical humour and misanthropy that’s integral to both mclusky and FOTL: bursting with pithy one-liners and sharp commentary, it’s everything that makes them so loved and so bloody great. Elsewhere, the more overtly mathy ‘not all the steeplejacks’ channels the spirit of Shellac rather nicely.

the world is still here and so are we is gritty, unpretty, full-throttle, and fiery. It’s a racket. And yes, it’s fucking mint.

AA

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Kranky – 2nd May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Landscapes, in all their forms, have always been significant in the inspiration for loscil works. Scott Morgan is an artist who seems sensitive to his surroundings, and also responsive to them when it comes to the creative process.

This is true of many artists, of course, and any artist who isn’t in some way influenced by their surroundings and the things which happen around them are… largely incomprehensible to me on a personal level. It simply seems unnatural to create art in a void, detached from experience. I’m not advocating that all art should be grounded in the here and now, or even in reality, but even the most imaginative of scenarios require an element of grounding in order to be credible. The most wildly-imagined sci-fi and fantasy only work when there’s a demonstration of an understanding of human character, or how dialogue works, and so on.

The misty, murky shadings of the cover are replicated in sonic form on ‘Arrhythmia’, the first of the album’s nine compositions. Where are indecipherable whispers eddying behind the piano notes, which gradually blur into a watercolour wash, and a slow pulsing tide slowly rises, only to fall and resurface and fall again.

Interweaving layers create an aural latticework on ‘Bell Flame’, the different tempos of the rippling waves merge together effortlessly to create a shimmering, ever-shifting fabric that’s soft, almost translucent. These supple, subtle ambient works are far from abstract, although their forms are vague to distinguish, and single release ‘Candling’, it so proves, is exemplary of the album’s finely-balanced layerings and contrasts.

With ‘Sparks’ preceding ‘Ash Clouds’, one might be tempted to perceive some form of narrative, or at least a linearity in their pairing: the two six-minute pieces drift invisibly from one to the next, although ‘Ash Clouds’ is heavier, darker, an elongated drone providing one of the album’s moodiest, most oppressive pieces. ‘Flutter’ is appropriately titles, and warps and bends in a somewhat disorientating, disconcerting fashion, creating an effect not dissimilar from the room-spin of inebriation, while the title track concludes the album with a lot of very little, as long, low droning notes hang heavy. It’s pure desolation, and yet… there is something which rises upwards other than smoke and flame – a gasping breath and the sound of a thousand souls transported in vapour.

There are beats on this album, but they’re almost subliminal, a heartbeat underneath the mix, and provide a sense of orientation like fence posts visible through fog or low cloud on a barren moor. More often than not, though, the rhythms come from the interactions between the different elements as they meet and then separate once again. The abstract nature of the work somehow compels the listener to not only fill the blank spaces with their own sensory and emotional input, but also to visualise in the mind’s eye what they may look like. As such, Lake Fire, while largely tranquil, sedate, and even soothing in parts, is stimulating, and to more than just the ears.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Is it acceptable to wear the band’s T-shirt to their show? It’s a frequent topic of debate amongst my gig-going friends. As a rule, we tend to agree it’s not cool, although we all have our notable exceptions, and I got mine. But IST IST fans would largely disagree, it would seem – unless this is their exception band.

Usually, with the front bar right next to the auditorium, people sit at the tables supping until the bands start, sometimes until the headliners take to the stage. Not tonight. A large cluster of middle-agers in IST IST T-shirts are queueing and actually blocking access to the bar room half an hour before doors.  There’s a guy with an immense beard wearing a sleeveless black denim jacket with Sisters of Mercy and Fields of the Nephilim patches paired with red tartan trees and he’s standing in the queue too. The queue is practically out of the front door by 7:25, but the bar remains almost empty. These people are keen.

The support is an Ian McCulloch wannabe in a knee-length coat doing sub-mid-80s Psychedelic Furs lifts with a goth tinge. The drum machine is nicely up in the mix and the sound is great, even if the songs are only middling at best, and wince at worst. and it’s mostly backing track. But the Jarvis Cocker moves are overdone, suddenly throwing shapes in the most uncool fashion, sometimes going for a power pose or something a shade more aggressive and all the more incongruous, and the shades are off and back on and off and I again and the cringe only increases as the set progresses. It’s one of the longest half hours of music, and probably the most painful since the band supporting A Flock of Seagulls at The Brudenell a few years ago. It’s a rare talent to be this technically competent and so fucking embarrassingly awful at the same time.

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Oliver Marson

Having clocked a vintage Sisters T in the gents and emerging to find the front of the stage absolutely rammed, I was reminded just how hardcore – not to mention fucking stubborn – older gig-goers can be. It’s no wonder I learned spot-bagging and elbows when I started going to shows as a teen in the early 90s. And, as then, I’m probably a sound 10-15 years younger than the majority of these buggers. Those clustered in the front row in groups are discussing the set lists placed on the stage. Smoke drifts as Interpol’s ‘Roland’ blasts from the PA.

It’s not hard to comprehend why this band enjoys such devotion from this demographic: they present all of the quintessential post-punk elements, delivered with precision and panache. It is, it must be said, post-punk as viewed through the prism of the 21st Century revival. And there are many who are here for that, too, with plenty of under 30s grooving away behind the first five rows of old sods.

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IST IST

There has been no shortage of bands doing precisely this since around 2004, but Superlative drumming elevates their Editors /Interpol / White Lies – etc. – sound. The vocals are a flat, monotone and slightly twangy baritone with all the reverb, which take me a while to place, but they land somewhere between I Like Trains and She Wants Revenge. Credit to the sound guy, too, who’s working hard with the reverb and echo, especially on new song ‘Echo’, which has ‘instant classic’ written all over it and goes down a storm. They’re tight as and the sound is outstanding, with some super-solid bass at the pulsating heart of it all – and unlike Oliver Marson, leather jacketed bassist Andy Keating keeps his shades on – although I can’t help but wonder if they’re prescription and he’s doing a Wayne Hussey.

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IST IST

One of the tracks later in the set – my notes are sketchy as I was a bit engrossed – is pure She Wants Revenge, and it would be easy to shrug that IST IST offer nothing new, and it would be a valid criticism – but the counterpoint to that would be the consistency of the material and sheer quality of the performance, where some nice 12-string action adds some all-essential texture, and there are abundant I Like Trains-style post-rock crescendos along the way – and shshsh, don’t tell the younger fans, but it’s all as goth AF.

4th April 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

I miss Fawn Spots. I didn’t especially like them at first – musically, they were lo-fi, energetic, and thrilling, but they came across as bratty, even a shade twatty, at times, notably in my recollection as coming across as somewhat ‘off’ and disparaging when supporting The Twilight Sad at The Duchess in York. I miss The Duchess, too. I suppose, like Fawn Spots at the time, it had its faults: the pillars weren’t great for views at times and the sound was often a bit crap, but it brought some top-notch touring bands to York, with The Fall, and The Psychedelic Furs’ DV8 performance being clear standouts.

But I came to feel an affection for Fawn Spots: they evolved, in every respect – from a raw, messy two-piece cranking out some frantic racket, to a proper band, with some proper songs – although not too polished. They never got so slick as to lose their edge. It’s easy to take bands who are always out on the local circuit for granted, and it’s only when they move on – whether it’s because they call it a day, or move on beyond the local scene – that their significance on a personal level becomes apparent. You go from seeing them every other week either headlining or supporting a bigger-name touring band and it all being so much ‘yeah, whatever, cool, but this is the sixth time this year, and it’s only May’ to suddenly, they’re absent.

After a clutch of indie and self-released EPs and bits, and some touring, and with the release of their critically-lauded debut LP From Safer Place in 2015 on Critical Heights, which received coverage from Record Collector and Louder than War Fawn Spots seemed to be on the brink of something. And then… they vanished, and we forgot about them because we were busy with our lives and all the other bands we were listening to, and all the rest.

This posthumously-released album has been lurking in the vaults for some time. As they write – and at the same time highlighting their wildly eclectic influences – ‘A few months after recording this album the band ceased to exist… The product of a period of obsession with Arab Strap, Angels of Light, Lungfish and the song ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’ by Crowded House.’

I love Angels of Light, but don’t love nostalgia: however, while cooking the other day, I flipped to the 80s music day on the Smithsonian channel, and heard ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’ – a song I own on 7” – for the first time in ages, and was reminded just how good it is. It’s not the first thing that comes to mind listening to the fuzzing, buzzing guitar blast of Ersatz.

‘Fortunes’ is a bit Fugazi, a bit Girls Against Boys, gritty, driving, sturdy, while ‘Blossoms’ is dynamic, textured in the way Nirvana pushed soft and chiming vs max overdrive.

The album has energy, that’s for sure. It also has some dense riffs and some keen melodies. Some are keener than others, it’s true, and the hollering ‘Daylight Runner’ feels a bit emo with a dash of mathiness. The same could be said of ‘Strangers’ but the early Dinosaur Jr vibe rescues it., while ‘Faint House’ has the post-punk-with-a-commercial-edge feel of White Lies. Quite liking White Lies, and bearing in mind the timing and context, I have no issues with this, but a decade on, I can comprehend why some may be rather less enthused.

Listening to these songs now, I feel I’d have appreciated them more contemporaneously. Buzz does count for something, it seems, as does being in the moment. If they’d sustained their momentum, if they’d remained current… things would likely have been very different. And perhaps some sounds do date, until nostalgia resurrects them. What goes around comes around, but sometimes it takes time.

Winding the clock back, the songs on Ersatz are well-realised, and played with real energy. But this an album that is, essentially, of its time. It’s not so much that its dated, as that is just feels… not entirely confluent with the zeitgeist of 2025, not entirely gripping in the sense that you need to check your back yard to feel safe.

Had it been released in 2015, and given the right press push and media uptake – because. let’s be honest, leading horses to water is only part of the equation when it comes to getting new bands heard – Ersatz could have propelled Fawn Spots to the next level – not because it was their best work, but their most accessible, and their most zeitgeisty work. And it has hooks: the post-punky ‘No Source’ is bold and guitary, but catchy, too.

Ersatz is now a historical document. It feels anachronistic, and doesn’t really sit anywhere in 2025. But it reminds us not only of how things were, but what could have been… and how we miss Fawn Spots.

AA

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