Archive for the ‘Singles and EPs’ Category

11th March 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

When it comes to goth, you might say that the apple never falls far from the tree: there’s a long history of references and recycling, with bands often taking their names from songs or otherwise referencing other bands, and there is, or at least should be, a goth band name generator somewhere on the Internet, with ‘Children’, ‘Sisters’, ‘Grooving’, ‘Dead / Death’ and ‘Ghost’ featuring prominently in the not-so random permutatable word selections. Funerals and marionettes are pretty popular, too, from as far back as 1986, when The Marionettes began life as The Screaming Marionettes.

Taking their name from the Charles Gounod composition of the same name, best known as the theme music for the television program Alfred Hitchcock Presents. The Funeral March of the Marionettes go back to that mid/late eighties heyday (broadly 84 or 85 to 87 or 88) that saw ‘goth’ solidify from being a nebulous array of post-punk bands (The Sisters of Mercy, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bauhaus, Alien Sex Fiend) being lumped under an umbrella by a lethargic press into an actual genre with more defined stylistic boundaries, typically drawing on the aforementioned acts, but with more indie-leanings typical of The Mission and the style of guitar Wayne Hussey introduced to The Sisters on his arrival in 1984

The Funeral March of the Marionettes, from Rockford, Illinois, cite The Cure, Bauhaus, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and others among their influences, and while they describe their latest offering as something of a departure, it’s still dense with latter-day gothic tropes, albeit leaning more towards the atmospheric post-punk/industrial crossover space, whereby you’ve got Depeche Mode covering Joy Division, a brooding atmosphere as cool synths drift in an ocean of reverb while angst oozes from every corner of the dense, gloomy production.

Yet for all its adherence of those tropes, for all its stylistic familiarity (just look at that cover art, that’s The Sisters of Mercy / Merciful Release meets Joy Division via Rosetta Stone), ‘Slow’ hits a spot, because it’s dark, dark, dark, and the execution is spot on, sending a shiver of torment down the spine that entices you to bask in the gloom.

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18th April 2022

James Wells

To promote their new EP, Sweet Giant are releasing a track a month from it, and so precisely one month on from the unveiling of the bright and breezy ‘Til You’re Blue’, they’re back with ‘My Bones’, recorded and self-produced by the band and mixed by Callum Barter (Courtney Barnett/ Kurt Vile).

This outing is a little more paired back, while it’s still big on the breezy melodies, the lyrical bent is rather more reflective and a shade less runny than its predecessor, with Annie Needham mulling on the nature of time as futures past drift together and apart.

‘I can smell my bones / don’t think that they’re my own / like they came from somewhere old / somewhere long ago’, she sings as if lost, adrift in time and uncertain of where she’s heading or where she’s been. It’s not surprising if she feels dislocated and out of time / place, living in London yet so clearly yearning for deserts and dust, freeways and festivals (just check the band pic to see where they see themselves at home).

The band cite along their many influences Fleetwood Mac and Creedence Clearwater Revival, and they really do capture that easy-going 70s American rock vibe, making their music ideal for driving on a sunny day with the windows down and the stereo up.

Band photo 1 - Sweet Giant

15th April 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

It may sound a bit screwy, but then, we’re here on the Internet and I’m sure you’ll have read far screwier things presented in more enticing ways that are far more dangerous than my theory that individuals are somehow psychologically and biologically attuned to certain kinds of music. It’s a complex issue, and one I’m yet to fully unravel, but it feels like something that slots into the nature / nurture debate: are people born predisposed to appreciate darker music, or is it triggered by life events – or a combination of the two?

In 1983, at the age of seven or eight, I saw Killing Joke on Top of the Pops performing ‘Love Like Blood’. I was, in hindsight, enjoying a mundane middle-class upbringing, but this moment – and it was one of several – went a long way to cementing my appreciation of darker music. I’d never suffered any kind of trauma and hardship beyond maybe some kids taking the piss out of my coat or whatever, but still something drew me towards this kind of thing.

Nearly forty years on, and ultimately, nothing’s changed: the turn of the millennium brought a new wave of post-punk influenced acts, with the likes of Interpol and Editors setting the grounds of darker territory. And, in turn, we’re seeing bands emerging now that very much echo the sound and style of post-millennial wave of post-punk, or new millennium new wave if you will (there doesn’t really seem to be a label for it, but if that one ever gets used, I’m claiming it).

This is the long and meandering route to the arrival the new single from London-based alt-rockers The Palpitations who – like so many acts – emerged during lockdown out of a need to so something, and the foursome – Tom Talbot on vocals, Brett Rieser on guitar, Nishant Joshi on bass, Florin Pascu on drums – set out their agenda with the ‘Feed The Poor! Eat The Rich!’ EP.

But there’s a nugget in the Palpitations bio that shows they’re not just another bunch of musicians who were loafing around listlessly and decided to bung some tunes together to fill the time whole on furlough or unable to play live. Talbot and Joshi were, in actual fact, working as frontline doctors, and both were instrumental in protecting NHS staff with upgraded PPE, and also took part in protests that gained international attention. Joshi later took the government to court over their PPE failures, winning a landmark case.

It’s out of this passion and a sense of frustration that the music of The Palpitations comes, and ‘Denial’ is a belter, smashing together a spindly, soaring lead guitar, with cool, meandering synths and a thumping solid rhythm section; if Interpol collided with Bivouac and Eight Storey Window, you’d probably have a handle on their post-punk grunge crossover, although there’s perhaps more than a hint of Placebo in the blend, and ‘Denial’ packs some darkly melodic angst and significant tension into its four-minute duration. It resonates not just on an emotional or sonic level, but on  a cerebral and biological level – and it’s an instant grab.

Futura Futura Records – 6th April 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Ah, romantic love… that all-encompassing, all-immersive burst of excitement that comes with the new. It’s that euphoria that drives people crazy, that people spend half their lives chasing, only to find it elusive, and it’s the blinding dazzlement of this ‘love’ that’s inspired infinite pop songs and poems through the ages: it was the very cornerstone of the tropes for the Elizabethan sonnet, and not a lot has changed in five hundred years, in real terms. It’s not that it’s a myth, it’s just that it’s fleeting at best.

Subterranean Lovers know this when they sing ‘I want to love you like a mother / I want to love you like a king / I want to love you like a god / I want to love you more than I’ve loved anything / I want to love you like a poet / I want to love you like an artist…’ and this makes ‘Brilliant Things’ a savvy slice of gothy pop.

Building from simple acoustic guitar and vocal and introducing the other instrumental elements of drums, bass, synth in succession, ‘Brilliant Things’ may glow brightly, but there’s a dark undertone beneath the lustrous, basking glory of these elevated aspirations, as if the weight of them drags such perfection beyond reach. This, in itself, brings a twist of anguish, the realisation that perfection is even more unobtainable than that magnificent, pedestal-standing object of desire.

‘You’re silver and gold / you’re mine to hold / you’re everything’ hints at the all-consuming and ultimately potentially damaging way obsession isn’t healthy, and the delivery is bold and dramatic, with a captivating vocal melody that’s enriched by enticing layers of harmony that leave you aching for more. Brilliant indeed.

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Artwork - Subterranean Lovers

Yr Wyddfa Records – 25th March 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

The latest offering from Holy Coves (who hail from Holy Island, Anglesey, renowned for its long historical links with pirates) is a bold, mid-tempo stroller. Infused with psychedelic and stoner rock, above anything, it’s got arena-friendly anthem stamped all over it – although I don’t mean that as the insult it could be taken. Not everything has to be edgy to be any cop.

Popular doesn’t have to mean weak, watered-down, lowest common denominator, and sometimes artists are popular because they’re good, rather than in spite of the fact. And there was, after all, a time when U2 and Simple Minds both made decent music, and they were packing out immense venues long before they became pompous, overblown parodies of themselves. It from this seam of 80s upscaled sound that ‘The Hurt Within’ is mined: everything about it feels huge, effortlessly amalgamating The Cult and Bruce Springsteen and coating it in a smooth reverbiness.

Holy Codes may or may not have aspirations to be immense, but their sound most definitely is, and it’s got that big, spacious feel; there’s probably an equation that involves ambition plus songwriting and production somewhere, and if there isn’t, then someone should map the co-ordinates of ‘The Hurt Within’ and take it as a blueprint.

New enough to grab anyone with ears, nostalgic enough to appeal to the forty-somethings and perhaps even older, and solid enough to stand up in its own right, it’s hard to fault from where I’m sitting.

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25th March 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

In today’s low-attention-threshold society, quite literally everything has to be instant. People simply won’t wait: they don’t have time. A 2019 survey found that the average person grows frustrated after waiting sixteen seconds for a webpage to load, and twenty-five seconds for traffic signal to change, and as far back as 2011, the average time spent on a webpage is under a minute. On Spotify, again pre-pandemic, there was a 24.14% likelihood of skipping to the next song in the first 5 seconds, 28.97% in the first 10 seconds, 35.05% in the first 30 seconds and a whopping 48.6% skip before the song finishes.

‘Nightmare’ piqued my interest inside five seconds, then had me fully by the throat at eleven. Why eleven? That’s when everything slams in – from a fade-in of dirty, distorted guitar chords (and it’s not often you get a fade-in), there’s a pause, a moment of silence, of suspense… the tenth second passes as you’re holding your breath, and then BANG! A pumping industrial disco beat and booming bass provide the driving backdrop to a vocal performance that’s all attitude, but it’s also clear that Eva Sheldrake knows her way around a hook, too.

Robin G Breeze’s production is a strong asset, in that is balances a slick, digital aspect with noise, in a way that’s reminiscent of Nine Inch Nails. Throw in a dash of metal and a dose of shadowy goth and you’ve got a killer formula and a cracking single.

(Click the pic to play)

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Pic: Derek Bremner

18th March 2022

James Wells

It’s late March, and after an unseasonably warm and sunny few days, we’re back to single figures and sleet and snow forecast for Scotland the north of England. It’s enough to make you want to hibernate, or maybe escape to somewhere else – somewhere open, free. A lot of people felt this yearning over the last couple of years, and it’s that which Sweet Giant have harnessed for the first single from their forthcoming four-tracker, to conjure a breezy, summery vibe.

The twangy guitar bounces along with a laid-back groove that’s pure 70s Americana, and the vocal harmonies are both sweet and giant, it’s chilled and breezy and easy on the ear in a way that’s transporative, but define exactly how and why and it drifts away on a sunbeam. Best to just go with the flow.

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Artwork - Sweet Giant

29th April 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

No, you’re not paranoid. This shit is real: you’re under surveillance, 24/7. London is one of the most surveilled cities in the world, but it’s by no means so far ahead of many others. Living in York, I noted walking past no fewer than thirteen cameras on my twenty-three minute walk to work – a stretch of precisely a mile. But you’re under surveillance without leaving the house, too: practically every keystroke you make is feeding the big data, and your mobile phone shows where you’ve been, as does your bank and credit card.

Brighton purveyors of psychedelic punk, Dog of Man are on a narrative path with their new single, ‘Hello MI5!, and you can’t help but wonder if the video concept preceded the song. Regardless, it’s three minutes of spiky indie-punk that’s so fast and furious it trips over itself at every step in its rush to pack everything in. It’s got one of those stringy, noodly, knotty guitar lines that’s positively addictive but also trips you up every other bar because it’s so busy it’s impossible to keep up.

Keeping up with Dog of Man is another problem, and it’s difficult. ‘Hello M15’ is eye-popping – arch, punky, poppy. It’s difficult, it’s frenetic, a sonic spasm inducing the same kind of jolting, jarring headache as early Foetus while bringing the chaotic snarking of Menswe@r and Selfish Cunt and driving into a head-on collision with This Et Al and S*M*A*S*H. Or something.

I suppose what I’m attempting to convey is that Dog of Man throw down everything all at once, and do so and a hundred miles an hour. This is mental shit, a frenzied chaos it’s… mayhem. There’s no real sense to be made here. ‘Hello MI5!’ is dizzying, and it’s brilliant.

Hello MI5! montage - Dog Of Man

Cool Thing Records – 25th March 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Cool Thing isn’t just a name: it’s essentially a manifesto. Established in 2014 as a conduit for Asylums to release their music, the label is truly a beacon of DIY independence, with in-house PR, the lot. One suspects the success they’ve achieved is in no small part to the calibre of the releases they’ve put out, not only for Asylums and side-project BAIT, but also the various acts from their locale of Southend-on-Sea, and occasionally London that they’ve given a home through the years.

The latest is ‘Submission’ by Southend electronic duo A Cause In Distress’, the follow up to the band’s third single, ‘Paraffin’, released just short of a year ago.

The band describe themselves as ‘The lovechild of Nine Inch Nails, Fugazi & Radiohead, if it was fathered by David Lynch’, and on the basis of previous press coverage, they’re everything all at once, which sounds like a tightrope walk that could be spectacularly amazing, or the most disastrous plunge into a catastrophic platter of shit imaginable.

Cool Thing know how to pick ‘em, and this is an outstanding hybrid that packs a throbbing synth that weaves and waves, propelled by an urgent shuffling beat and a vocal reminiscent of Morten Harket: it’s as if Factory Floor had perfected soaring melodic pop instead of running out of steam and ideas after just two EPs. At three minutes, it’s succinct, and it feels like half that. The cyclical groove just sucks you in, and tugs you along, and you’re completely immersed. It’s not music, it’s alchemy. Give in to it.

A Cause In Distress - ‘Submission’ _ Artwork

Lia Hide – Dinner

Conch Town Records – 25th March 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Such a contentious word. Two syllables, it kind of has a satisfying downbeat in the middle before an inflection, and on the face of it, completely innocuous. But ‘dinner’ is a territory of dispute that denotes and divides regions. It’s all about positioning – whether it’s ‘breakfast, dinner, and tea, or breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is essentially an English debate, and personally, I believe cricket has the answer the end all debate, stopping for lunch and tea – afternoon tea. That and the fact that no pubs display a ‘dinner’ menu at lunchtime.

So, while Lia Hide is from Greece, I’m working on the premise that the follow up to the absolutely cracking ‘Proposal’, the first single from her forthcoming fourth album, The Missing Fourth Guest, is about an evening meal, with the lighting low – probably candles – and a long evening in prospect.

As she explains in the accompanying notes, “It’s an invitation to dinner , so we can mend things that went wrong. I go from being alone in my own head, in my mess, to reaching out for some communication with someone, anyone, so we can have dinner, discuss and focus on being alright.”

It sounds like a pretty nervy meal in prospect, and the track has an appropriately tense start, which burred whips of electric tension and glitching distortion cutting across the gentle piano and subdued beats. ‘Can we focus on being alright?’ she sings in a low-key, ponderous tone. Beats burst and stutter all around over a rolling piano before, seemingly from out of nowhere, brass bursts and blossoms, introducing an unexpectedly jazz feel to this roiling, multi-faceted electronica.

It’s anything but obvious, but it’s magnificently executed, and makes you hungry for more. Who’s for supper?

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