Archive for the ‘Singles and EPs’ Category

12th December 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

The eponymous debut EP by South Carolina indie pop-rock duo The Yets is steeped in the tropes of quintessential vintage alternative pop, absorbing a range of influences, while keeping a clear eye on classic and ultimately accessible forms – embracing Fleetwood Mac and Cocteau Twins in equal measure, as the press release suggests with remarkable accuracy.

Robin Wilson has a superb voice, delicate, emotive, easy on the ear, and at the same time rich and gutsy. It’s key to the sound of The Yets, and the six songs on this debut EP really showcase both her versatility and that of their songwriting.

There’s a weird booming sound – not quite a beat, not quite a bass note – that cuts through the mellow drift of ‘Waterline’, and it’s one of those things that once you’re attuned to it, you can’t detune, like the duck in Whigfield’s ‘Saturday Night’ or the cowbell on ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’, but if you can ignore it, it’s a superbly-executed song with a clean guitar chug that keep it moving along nicely while the lead guitar chimes and washes melodically.

‘Remember’ is perfection, a layered, easy alt-rock tune that’s Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’ and it floats along in a dreamy drift that closes out with a delicate guitar solo.

They strip things right back for ‘Lesser Evil’, which swings between brooding indie and moody post-punk with hints of Siouxsie, before spinning into ethereal shoegaze territory on the dreamy ‘Letter to a Boy’, which really does find the band revelling in the misty ethereal shadows of Cocteau Twins.

‘Fades to Grey’ makes an obvious reference to Visage, and the band’s 80s leanings are on clear display, but that’s where the connection severs: this is a smooth, atmospheric rippling piece with chiming, echo-heavy guitar that owes much to Disintegration-era Cure, and ‘Happy Now’ builds on that thickly atmospheric sound with a loping rhythm and layers of vocals that really fill out the sound as the guitars and it’s the most overtly goth song of the set.

With a broad pallet of tuneful wistfulness and textured, layered instrumentation, coupled with some smart and sensitive production, The Yets have landed with a seriously accomplished debut: there’s a lot happening here, and there’s a significant range but at the same time a cohesive feel to it.

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The Yets 4 - photo by Gordon Backman

Photo: Gordon Backman

2nd December 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Bournemouth-based four-piece alt-rock unit Solcura pack a lot into three and a half minutes on ‘Keep It Close’, which is their first new music since their debut album, Serotonin released in August 2021.

It begins with some soft, hazy, warm-toned, vaguely psychedelic backwards guitar stuff and some airy vocals before slamming in with a grungy riff and some hard minor key power chords.

They’re open in their drawing on 90s grunge as their primary influence, and I’ll be the last person to criticise for that. As much as these bleak times draw comparisons to the conditions of the late 70s and early 80s that spawned post-punk, we’re also living in conditions that are giving rise to another ‘lost’ generation, struggling to find their place and their identity. Grunge emerged as the voice of a generation for a very good reason about thirty years ago, and while bands have drawn clear influence from that spell in the early 90s when big crunching guitars were all the rage, it feels more than ever like the time is right for a proper grunge revival

If it initially comes on like a cross between Alice in Chains, Soundgarden and Bivouac in its melodic, accessible grunge stylings, there’s a sudden switch that takes a turn for the metal and things get heavier – but without going for the guttural vocal move that’s been persistently popular since the advent of nu-metal.

‘Keep It Close’ sounds and feels like three or four songs in one, and yet they meld the different segments together so seamlessly that it absolutely works – it’s a proper gut-pulling kick in the ribs that’s got a rare energy, intelligent songwriting and raw power, and it kicks some serious ass.

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Solcura artwork

Christopher Nosnibor

Having showcased ‘Immersive Waves’ recently, my interest was sufficiently piqued to explore the rest of the EP from gothic/occult wave duo Raven Said. With ‘Immersive Waves’ being the last of the EP’s five tracks, it feels like I’m coming to it backwards first, although I so appreciate there is a flaw to this logic.

‘A Flowering and a Flattering’ drills in with some expansive synths wafting over a hi-NRG dance beat and thumping bass, and it falsely points toward pumping trance before going cinematic, darkwave, and then the arrival of the vocals – a heavily-processed, growling monotone baritone that’s quintessential goth – changes the tone again, and with fractal guitars chiming against a pulsing bass and stomping mechanised beat we’re in the domain of 90s second wave goth as characterised by the likes of Suspiria and the Nightbreed label’s output.

It’s the chorus-heavy guitars and theatrical vocals that dominate the broodingly dramatic ‘Transparent Sorrow’ that draws all of its cues from The Sisters of Mercy circa 85 and Ghostdance, Skeletal Family, et al, and dark grooves are the leading element of the murky ‘Except My Love for Her’. The drum machine may be backed off, but the crisp snare echoes into the sonic fog while the bass booms. The rasping vocal sounds more like a menacing threat than pleading, before the frenetic ‘Sredni Vashtar’ goes full electro and sounds like The Sisterhood’s ‘Jihad’ played at 45 instead of 33, or a KMFDM outtake. This level of electronic hyperactivity is perhaps the least successful song on the EP, and it’s not aided by the mix, with the vocals up and the drums and synths backed off. It feels somehow cheap.

But then ‘Immersive Waves’ draws together all of the best elements of the preceding tracks into a rippling mix of vintage goth and electropop steeped in theatre and atmosphere and it’s magnificently moody and leaves you wanting more, and more….

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25th November 2022

James Wells

Time marches on, and here we are almost midway through December still catching up with November releases, this time with Polish ‘dark rock’ duo Shrine Of Reflection.

There’s a great temptation to split hairs and that argue that surely the dark rock tag is goths pretending not to be goth, but that would be unjust, as this six-and-a-half-minute sonic adventure is more post-rock than anything, but there are also hints of prog and bleak neofolk vibes emanating from the murky tones, where a sparse, spindly lead line drifts over a slow, deliberate thunder-like beat that plods away like a heavy heart, before it blossoms into colour at the midpoint into an expansive, cinematic sweep.

The blurbage summarises that “‘Child Of The World’ is a song inspired by the movie, Interstellar. It’s about the misery of a human being who is trapped on planet Earth and who is unable to discover the truth of the universe’s nature despite the fact of being its child. All this person can do is just simply stare at the sky and dream.”

That sense of entrapment is relatable, but more than this, the vocals become increasingly cracked and desperate as the song progresses, before the slow-building crescendo takes over, finally tapering off into muffled samples that leave you looking into the emptiness, and wondering.

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25th November 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

What we all need is a jolt, a shock. Right NOW. You may not even realise it, but consider this: while life and the world seems to be swirling in a vortex of addling bewilderment, a lot of music seems to have become incredibly safe, a retreat. I’m not even talking about that slick, mass-produced mainstream fodder: even so-called ‘alternative’ rock has become increasingly safe in recent years, in the post-emo, post Foos world. And while a few acts on the peripheries are smashing all genre conventions with sledgehammers, they’re pretty niche, and what the world needs is something that can really get into the mix and shake things up. Has anything turned the world even halfway on its head singe grunge?

I’m aware that even reminiscing about grunge places my voice in a time capsule and in the ‘old bugger’ demographic for many, but has anything really been even remotely as evolutionary since? Has there ever been a seismic event since? We talk – or talked – about the zeitgeist, but what is the zeitgeist at the flaccid tail-end of 2022? Disaffection, discontent, strikes? Maybe, but what’s the soundtrack? Ed Sheeran and the new Adele album sure as hell aren’t the voice of disaffected youth.

Brighton’s ‘rising alt-rock rebels’ Fighting Colours might not be the face of the revolution, but they are the band to deliver that much-needed shakeup.

The vibe around the opening of the first of the EP’s four tracks, ‘Your Choice Now’ is a bit post-rock, with a nice, clean, chiming guitar sound – but it yields to some beefy riffage that’s pure grunge, it’s clear from the outset that they’re keen to mix things up and create their own blend, and it’s one that works well. And then Jasmine Ardley’s vocals enter the mix, and with this kind of chunky alt-rock being so male-orientated, to hear a female voice is unusual – and while Ardley has a clean vocal sound, it’s not unduly poppy.

‘The Boat Starts to Shake’ shuffled closer towards the jazzier, noodling end of the post-rock sound that was ubiquitous circa 2004, but the mathy verses contrast with massive slugging grunged-out choruses and a climax that’s nearly nu-metal and beings some hefty noise.

‘The Cure’ is different again, venturing into almost urban territory, while still anchored in jazzy math rock elements, before rupturing into a bold chorus that’s in between Evanescence and Halestorm, both gutsy and melodic and with an ‘epic’ feel, and it’s delivered with style.

The final cut of the EP plays the slower, emotion-filled arena anthem card, but still has more than enough guts and a keen melody, not least of all thanks to Jasmine’s voice, to separate it from the countless Paramore-wannabe alt rock acts out there.

It all stacks up for a strong set with a lot of bold and exhilarating rock action. It’s the kick up the arse alt-rock needs.

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Fighting Colours - Wishing Well - EP artwork (Gypsy Rose Design)

23rd September 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Perhaps it’s that media has a numbing effect, or perhaps it’s simply that however strong the quality of the reportage, it can never truly convey the details in a way that are relatable. I’ve spent the best part of the last year seeing footage or the War in Ukraine and seeing and reasoning about the humanitarian crisis, and, like most people, it’s been quite overwhelming. And yet, ultimately, it’s just more TV, more news media online, on the radio.

I receive missives from around the globe, most containing new music for my ears, and this week, the arrival of Nefas EP by Sora, an offshoot of Kadaitcha piqued my interest with the offer of instrumental southern Ukrainian jazzcore.

Sure, I’m up for a challenge, and hell it’s definitely that. But if the music is a challenge – and if you look up ‘challenge’ in the dictionary, you’ll find it starts playing this EP – the backdrop to its release is even harder to process, with the context of its having been recorded and released shortly before its makers fled Ukraine and decamped to Estonia for their survival, leaving their musical equipment behind and a new Kadaitcha album in the can and in suspense.

Like many, I simply take my home and possessions for granted, writing in my review of the last Kadaitcha release – a lathe-cut 7” ‘with a true physical format, apart from fire or flooding, you have something pretty robust’. It feels pretty crass in the face of everything, in hindsight.

But… but… these guys have continued to make music right up to that moment of departure. It’s not heroic, but a real indicator of just how essential art is, even in the most desperate of time. And more than anything, it shows how strong the need for normality is in the most extreme of situations. The world is seemingly ending, what do you do? Keep going, do as much as you can of what you were doing before. Because it’s a way to cope. Channel that anxiety creatively, and who knows?

Well, we know now. Sora is something special.

The five tracks drag the listener on a wild journey, with the first piece, ‘kings’ but a prelude to the frenetic manic sonic explosion of ‘limit’, a frenzy of crashing drums, jagged guitars, freewheeling bass grooves and crazy brass that brings a whirlwind of discord and by the end, it’s all whipped into a head-spinning cyclone of chaos. It’s a maelstrom of madness, there’s just so much going on all at once, and so much noise and dissonance.

‘Schizoid’ brings some truly nefarious low-end to the party, and it’s hurled against some crashing drums, and in combination conjures a tempestuous storm of sound that rages and pummels, before ‘No’ lumbers heavily onto a hooting, tooting onslaught of mayhem.

There’s a serious risk of a headache with this one, but it’s a headache that need poking: Sora is brain-bending, dizzying, and at times intense and harsh. But that’s why we like it.

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Prophecy Productions – 7th December 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Following on from ‘For Horror Eats the Light’, Fvnerals bring more darkness for December with ‘Ashen Era’ from the forthcoming album Let the Earth Be Silent. And truly, it’s a monster, a sprawling seven-and-a-half-minute beast that behind dark, murky, atmospheric in a haunting, ethereal ambient sort of a way, before crushingly heavy guitars grind out colossal drone over thunderous percussion.

If it feels like the end of the world, that’s probably because that’s the intention. The band explain the song and is place in the album’s development thus: “Inspired by the deeply destructive nature and harmful presence of our species, ‘Ashen Era’ was the first song that we wrote for this album, which also established its foundation", singer and bass player Tiffany Ström reveals. “In our writing process, we used dissonant orchestral instrumentation coupled with eerie vocals to ritualistically build up from a chant of despair to a state of acceptance. It is moving from the overwhelming longing for annihilation as well as the anxiety and guilt of our existence, to finding beauty and peace in our own impending end.”

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Pic: Anja Bergman

This anxiety is something that’s been increasingly difficult to ignore, and it’s not just me and the sense of impending apocalypse that I’ve had for half my life: everything seems to be accelerating exponentially – climate change, consumption, population growth. The last few weeks have seen myriad news pieces on people complaining that Christmas markets have never been so busy and that traffic gridlock is suddenly no longer a rush hour or bank holiday thing, but from eight in the morning to nine at night.

In the wake of the pandemic, and with floods and droughts and fuel shortages and spiralling prices as demand for everything exceeds demand, as I’ve written previously, it feels as if we’re not only heading towards but already living in all of the dystopian futures featured in books and movies. That more writers and musicians are articulating these same feelings is cold comfort.

If one thing is becoming clear now, it’s that we have left it too late, and have almost certainly sealed our own fate, and now it seems that all we can do is make peace with this, and search for the ‘beauty and peace in our own impending end.’ It isn’t easy, if it’s even achievable, accelerating toward the abyss. But with ‘Ashen Era’, Fvnerals provide the perfect soundtrack.

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KT.eps

Warren Records

Christopher Nosnibor

On witnessing Hull band Ketamine Kow playing live low on the bill supporting Mannequin Death Squad a little while ago, I found myself feeling exhilarated and fully charged by the raw energy of the performance and 100% sold on their punk energy, and I wrote as much after the fact. So it’s nice to see my enthusiastic comments repeated in the press release for their new single, ‘Shoe Shopping’, and it certainly doesn’t disappoint.

A nervous, but soft jangling guitar yields to a welter of everything going off all at once and at a hundred miles an hour and they charge headlong into a raucous blast of driving alternative rock that channels post-punk and grunge as much as it does classic vintage punk, while Adam Stainforth rants about uncomfortable shoes.

If that sounds like facetious fluff, it’s far from it, and Stainforth’s explanation of the song’s subject matter shows a depth and reflection that may not be immediately apparent based on first impressions:

“The song battles with the idea of gender identity being a lot like a pair of shoes,” he says. If you have a good comfortable well-fitting pair, then you don’t think about it and as you walk about you aren’t constantly thinking about your shoes and their comfort. But if your shoes are too small, or there’s a pebble in them, it’s all you can think about. Every step is annoying and you don’t want to do anything else until you fix the problem and your shoes stop hurting. So, I think in that sense most people probably can’t conceptualise the feeling of their gender well, because it just fits right and always has – and therefore it’s hard to imagine how all the small, normal things just constantly feel wrong, even if you are alone in your home.”

Put simply, there’s more than just all-out attack happening here, although the full-throttle, furious delivery is, unquestionably, a major draw. With the momentum they’ve built – and the speed at which they’ve gained it – this year, 2023 is looking like being a stormer for Ketamine Kow.

James Wells

It’s either fight or flight, right? It’s clear what this foursome choose, although they may need to square up for the other if some disagree with their claims: their website home page is certain bold and confident, welcoming the surfer with the invitation to ‘Discover a new name to send you back to 1973, outrageously overlooked and under-appreciated – until now.’

Looking at the hits of 1973 makes me glad I wasn’t there. It’s bad enough that Glen Campbell’s ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ was at number one when I was born, but the thing with any new movement that’s remembered as defining a period is that it was rarely a cultural dominant. People harp on about punk in 77 and 78, but it was Boney M, 10cc, Leo Sayer, ABBA and Rod Stewart who dominated the charts and the radio in 77, and 73 is more accurately represented by Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Paull Simon, and Wings than anything glam.

So when Flight suggest that now is the time for a glam revival, rekindling the sound of 1973, remember how much history distorts things.

Fair play to these guys, ‘Don’t Ask’ has the swagger off T-Rex propelled by the thumping insistent drumming of The Glitter Band and a well-realised retro vibe, with a hazy, shimmery production and a neat tube-crunching guitar sound. It’s catchy as, and clocking in at a super-succinct two minutes and forty-seven seconds, it’s punchy, too, and very much in keeping with that vintage vibe.

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12th October 2022

James Wells

Alright, so I can’t see ‘bad news’ without thinking of the spoof rock band that was part of the Comic Strip Presents… series, featuring the actors behind The Young Ones who released a parody rendition of Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, actually produced by Brian May, and got themselves bottled off stage at Monsters of Rock in 1986.

There’s nothing periodic or rock cliché about this, though. As the blurb outlines, ‘Bad News explores dreams and nightmares, forgiveness and damnation. Through dark electronic and industrial rock themes: wailing bagpipes and fragile synths on the likes of ‘Not Enough Bridge’ contrasted with pounding beats and heavy guitars on ‘Wild Girl (Slug Mix)’ the band further develops their self-described ‘alternadustrial’ sound.

Admittedly, bagpipes sound like really fucking bad news, but this six-tracker doesn’t sound nearly as bad as the cover art suggests it might. ‘L’appel du Vide’ comes on like Pornography-era Cure with doomy synths and clattering, crushing drum, but with the bonus addition of crunching metal guitar, with the end result being as heavy as hell.

‘Echo Chamber’ is twitchy and urgent, a vintage snare cutting through stark synths and a murky fog of bass and guitar; elsewhere, ‘Darkest Dream’ is stark and sparse, blending early Depeche Mode and Meat Beat Manifesto with a dash of Wax Trax! industrial-tinged electronica injected with a shot of adrenaline – and it’s all slammed home with that tempo that gets you pumped.

If the dense, dark waves of synth and snarling vocals and stomping beats which dominate the EP seem fairly standard fare, at least the pipes are kept in the background.

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