Archive for the ‘Singles and EPs’ Category

1st December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

My introduction to West Wickhams was the day their debut single ‘He’s Acquired a New Face’ crashed my inbox in the Autumn of 2019. Something about it absolutely gripped me. Something about it was strange and different. And of course, it’s no longer available anywhere. But it was the only thing they had out at the time, and for various reasons, I didn’t get wind of subsequent releases, the first of which arrived almost a year later, and now it turns out I’ve got some catching up to do, as it turns out they’ve knocked out not one, but two five-track EPs since June 2022. But first, Vivre Sa Vie. A nine track EP!!!

Admittedly, when most of the tracks are around two to two-and-a-half minutes in length, it’s definitely got an EP running time, and would easily fit on a 10” record, but still.

It’s a joy to discover that while the songwriting has evolved and expanded, they’re still magnificently idiosyncratic, and still revel in every layer of echo and reverb going. ‘I am Sparkling Cyanide’ is a mid-tempo shimmery tune that’s almost poppy, bringing together early 80s synth pop with a dash of The Jesus and Mary Chain, all spun through a shoegaze filter. But ‘The Maddening Crowd’ is a piston-pumping blast of fucked-up psychedelic surf rock with an agitated bassline and relentless cheapy drum machine creating a rigid spine, over which even cheaper synth notes tinkle and twinkle.

With its nagging bassline and monotonous programmed beat ‘Carla Suspiria’ plunges into haunting early 80s goth territory, its heavy atmospherics reminiscent of early Danse Society. The vocals – like the guitar – are almost lost in a cavernous reverb. The atmosphere gets darker still on ‘I’m Spinning I’m Spinning’: the fat bass sound is pure Cure and listening to it feels like floating in space – detached, disorientated, out of body.

‘At the Cinema’ transforms the mundane into a heightened emotional experience, channelling Joy Division all the way, even down to the sounds of breaking glass.

The large number of tracks is by no means an indication that they’ve just bunged everything on there just because they’ve got it: Vivre Sa Vie is quality all the way, and they’ve utilised the space afforded by the longer format to structure the sequence in a way that feels like there’s a flow and a certain linearity, punctuating the really bleak gloomers with the poppier efforts.

The final track, ‘Damned Defiant!’ crashes in on a barrage of beefy percussion countered by chiming synths, and it’s a total assimilation of The Cure’s catalogue, and it’s rendered so magically, and in the space of two minutes and nine seconds that it can only be described as doomy goth-pop perfection.

AA

a2127070247_10

15th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s quite refreshing to find an EP with only three tracks. At the risk of coming on like a nostalgia sap, it takes me back to the late 80s and early 90s, when I first got into music and buying records, when 7” EPs would often contain three tracks. There was something tidy about the format. Then again, a lot of 80s releases would feature two tracks on the 7” and add an additional B-side to the 12”, which was also pretty tidy – before the days of extended remixes and CD EPs which would tediously pack out the space with multiple versions of the single, none of which were often worth the bother, but of course, collectors would feel compelled to buy all of the different formats and the single would achieve a higher chart placing thanks to cynical marketing.

The Supplements, from Fort Lauderdale, describe their sound as ‘moody post-punk meets riff-lead indie rock’, and while post-punk is my thing, it’s the indieness that draws me to this release, and nit only on account of the EP format and the fact the lead track is a mere 2:44, with the longest song being not much over three minutes.

While my loathing of Morrissey and a general sense of ‘outgrowing’ The Smiths in recent years may have eclipsed my one-massive love for the band, there’s no denying that they were the absolute kings of the perfectly succinct single, and there’s clearly an element of that tight songwriting in the zero-fat brevity on the songs The Supplements serve up here.

But another aspect of the band’s sound which is utterly compelling is that darker post-punk element, which is pure Interpol. Now, after hearing all the raving about Interpol being the new Joy Division, I was sorely disappointed the day I picked up their first two albums. But once I had come to terms with the fact that the critics were just wrong in their reviews, I came to love those albums, and the ones which followed (apart from the last one, which is toss). And it’s that dark but jangly thing – think ‘Say Hello to the Angels’, with the kind of descending runs which can be found on ‘Slow Hands’ – which The Supplements do so well.

‘Another Day’, the lead track, boasts a driving bass, and Ted O’Connell’s vocals are pitched around the baritone of Paul Banks’. ‘I Can’t Have Everything’ is defined by a choppy guitar underpinned by a chunky bass groove, and the last few bars seem to lean heavily on the intro to ‘Slow Hands’. ‘Different Light’ – nothing to do with The Bangles – again brings some nagging guitars reminiscent of the intro to ‘Roland’ and the mid-section of ‘The New’ and a strong rhythm section, where a strolling bass holds tight against some urgent drumming. With Moving On, The Supplements deserve to be moving up too, because this is pure quality.

AA

a0154580951_10

5th January 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

While I’m still sifting through December’s releases – it seems as if 90% of 2023’s releases landed on 15th December – I’m most conscious that 2024 hasn’t only arrived, but is blasting forwards at a rocket pace. The first week has evaporated already. Where does time go? Where does life go? I find myself contemplating these questions daily, weekly, not as part of some existential fret, but simply as I jostle with the everyday contradiction of the so-called work/life balance. For the majority, the very concept is a myth. They work, they work, they work… and then they die. This is the reality of contemporary capitalism, and apparently, we need to shut up and deal with it.

I shall park the political rage momentarily, while addressing this. Here we have ‘Choppy’, the new single release from Berlin punk rock duo Circolo Vizioso, pitched as ‘a high-octane single spawned of depression and failed love story and… the first taste of their debut album Verrueckt (out March 1st) and as showcasing ‘their unique brand of high-intensity, lyric-driven punk, created with electric violin, guitar and drums. On this album, Circolo Vizioso wrestles with isolation, lack of social and human contact, and a hunger for music and art, which we all felt during recent lockdowns.’ It’s also pitched as being for fans of Sonic Youth, The Black Angels, Fugazi, Nirvana, Buzzcocks, Shellac, Gang of Four, Schleimkeim, Pisse, Abwaert, Old Time Relijun. Of the bands among those with which I’m familiar (It’s a falsehood that even the most knowledgeable music critics have heard every band, however hard they might pretend it’s so) this is all positive, and these are the kind of bands whose sound provide a sonic template for exploring some dark and complex emotions and navigating challenging situations and a messed-up society. Music is more than mere entertainment: it’s an outlet, a way of dealing with difficult things, of exploring and working through them, and on the evidence of this release, Circolo Vizioso unapologetically channel these difficulties into their creative outlet.

‘Choppy’ is as raw and primitive as it comes. Rough and scratchy, it feels like a demo – but to pretty it up with production would be to strip it of its primal immediacy. Listening to those first few bars, I’m reminded of early Pavement, in every way: it’s rattly, ragged indie, cleanish guitars fuzzing as a condenser mic on a portable cassette recorder overloads. It’s heavy with melancholy, and the tempo switches and drags and races. And the accompanying video – ultra-saturated, blurry – is an eye-bleeder which perfectly mirrors the mood and the no-fi stylings. The violin makes for an unusual slant, bringing further tension and scrapey noise to the dysfunctional party.

AA

488582

15 December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Few artists can state that they’ve been developing their skills from the age of six, but Katie Arndt is very much a rare breed, and her bio lists her as a ‘prolific producer, vocalist, pianist, and composer.’

All of this is in evidence on her latest offering under the DataBass moniker – as project she’s operating while also, again according to her bio, ‘pursuing studies in classical and commercial voice, with a major in Music Media Production at Ball State University’.

But more impressive than any of this is the quality of her material. ‘Talking To My Dreams’ is a truly captivating composition, and if it stands as rather a departure from most of the releases I cover here, it’s for two reasons: the first being that a bit of a breather is essential. Sure, I like heavy, I like really heavy, and I like really fucking bone-crushing heavy. But I also like tunes, and to drift in moments of tranquillity.

‘Talking To My Dreams’ is both a tune and a moment of tranquillity, as Arndt’s clear voice skips over a delicate piano. Her skills as a producer are in evidence with the inclusion of subtle incidentals, subtle layers of synth and so on, before the vocals are doubled, with backings and harmonies drifting in with the greatest of naturalness.

That the song is barely two and a half minutes long is noteworthy, too, as it seems to reflect something of a trend toward shorter songs, as we had back in the ‘50s and ‘60s. The reasons for such succinct singles may be different now, but it does mean that we’re hearing songs which aren’t stretched out or padded, and simply say what they have to say. ‘Talking To My Dreams’ is a work of great economy, and its brevity adds to its gentle impact.

Lake of Confidence – 15th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Having worked for far too many years in financial services in order to pay the bills, ‘terms and conditions’ is a term that weighs heavily on my soul and my psyche. All that small print… the devil is in the details, and there’s a good reason customers often feel swindled by the inclusion of impenetrable clauses written in language which only someone with an advanced degree in legalese could even begin to decipher. The title, then, brings fitting connotations to a complex and detailed work, although, mercifully, it’s more rewarding than frustrating and doesn’t leave you feeling bamboozled and shafted over.

Label Lake of Confidence – which sounds like it’s on the moon – informs us that ØrsØ’s debut EP ‘is a reflection on our civilization, offering a gripping critique of consumable culture and post-social network alienation.’ They also describe his style as a fusion of ‘experimental music, indietronica, dark wave and English-speaking pop’, and ‘English-speaking’ is right: ‘Unreal Moment’ has the nagging industrial-strength electro pulse of DAF paired with the electro pop layering of early Pet Shop Boys, topped with a vocal delivery that alludes to the monotone nonchalance of The Flying Lizards.

ØrsØ’s brilliance lies in his ability to amalgamate such a range of elements while still keeping the compositions relatively simple, structurally and in terms of things happening at any given time. These songs – and they very much are songs, even if conventional hooks and choruses aren’t dominant features – are clever and carefully constructed. ‘Dancing Girl’ has something of a recent Sparks vibe about it, while he channels shades of Bowie in the vocals, and this is accentuated on ‘To Yourself’, which could be an outtake from Outside.

The EP’s five tracks showcase the work of an artist who possesses a high level of musical articulacy, matched by a high level of experimental curiosity. There isn’t a weak track here, and significantly, no two tracks are particularly alike: the last of the five, ‘Follow the Wind’ brings a more overtly dance feel, with a pumping bass beat and rippling, trancey synths, but at the same time, there are hints of The Human League and Visage in the mix.

In an ocean – not a lake – of retro-tinged, vaguely dark-hued synthy pop, ØrsØ’s ‘Terms and Conditions’ stands out as being more detailed, more nuanced, and more inventive in its assimilation of wide-ranging elements – and the results are accomplished.

15th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Among their tags, garage / punk / alternative rock band The Würmen have included ‘super-edgy’. Fair enough: they are German, right? Wrong! They’re from West Yorkshire – Leeds to be precise – and this, their debut EP, which features two previous singles, offers a set of four songs, all with medical / related titles and puns. ‘Vas deferens’ was the punchline to a joke I’ve completely forgotten after being told some twenty-five years ago. This is a recollection which helps no-one, but simply adds a layer off intertext to the experience of hearing this primitive punky racket. The songs are raucous, shouty, not too mention a tad zany, equal parts Pixies and Leeds legends Bilge Pump, the choppy, skewed guitar slaloming all over a dominant bass sound.

‘Ceiling Funny’ – the EP’s only track to run beyond three minutes – feels like their stab at a song that might get some traction, if not necessarily airplay, with the angularity yielding to a hooky chorus that’s not quite Foo Fighters, but clearly aspires to a more ramshackle reimagining of Biffy Clyro.

‘Cognitive Dissonance’ is quirky noise rock that’s quintessential Leeds, channelling the roaring grunge of Pulled Apart by Horses and the nagging mathiness of Wintermute and This Et Al. ‘Remediation Policy’ is a hell-for-leather riotous race to the end, wrapping up a snappy release that’s exploding with energy, urgency, and raw power, and which is great fun.

AA

a3001611594_10

15th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Glasgow Duo Empty Machines promise a blend of post punk, shoegaze, and indie synth rock, and ‘Velvet Sky’ is an expansive, atmospheric tune, layers of vocals floating in a swirl of textures synths and guitars submerged in effects. Reflective, contemplative, there are some bold dynamics here as they take things down to allow level before surging back. The blurry, saturated, shadowy but dazzlingly bright video perfectly encapsulates the mood here – one which is centred around a range of conflicting sensations and uncertain emotions. You feel a certain sense of bewilderment, as if being transported by invisible forces, both physically and psychologically.

It’s the vocals which carry the melody through a tidal wave of dense instrumentation, and with the drums low in the mix in comparison to this cinematic instrumental maelstrom, there’s a sense of volume, of sonic force to this dreamy but powerful single, as soft and smooth as velvet, but as dense as diamond.

AA

398690273_17873728037990162_7432350919056172319_n

15th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

This is an odd one which will likely baffle and bewilder many of those who encounter it – which will likely be far fewer than it deserves. It’s rare for a track that isn’t thrash or grindcore to run to less than a minute and a half, for a start. I know absolutely nothing about T.N. beyond that they’re from Spain, but T.N.’s ‘Siddung’ is a sliver of minimalist hip-hop that sends a shiver down the spine.

If commercial hip-hop has come to be synonymous with bragging and banging, flashing cash and blades, it’s worth remembering that its roots were a different kind of ‘street’, and with acts like Last Poets emerged from spoken word, the jazz and beat scene of the late 50s, giving a voice to black culture and the civil rights movement.

This track is something of a hybrid – it’s ‘street’ but it’s introspective and uncomfortable, and after an atmospheric introduction, halts just as it seems to be finding its groove. It’s difficult to unravel the track’s meaning or intent: ‘siddung’ is patois for ‘sit down’ – as the cover art relays in a literal sense – but beyond that…?

It feels more like a sketch than a complete song, but one could imagine an album containing maybe twenty or so of these vignettes would add up to paint a quite compelling picture.

12th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

German electro duo ALTR∞ seem like a pretty chipper pair, pronouncing the arrival of their second EP with the theatrical, Shakespeare-referencing proclamation ‘The world is not a stage, it’s a dancefloor: welcome to the Cosmic dancefloor of Eternity!’

They go on to explain how the ‘INFINITE’ EP is a celebration of the complexity and the beauty of life and the connection that binds us all! The broad spectrum of music influences, woven into the EP’s music tapestry, symbolises the infinite flow of ideas and references that shape and drive the Collective Consciousness. We hope that these songs will make you feel free: dancing and releasing all worries and troubles! We wanted to try new things, while exploring a more dancefloor-oriented sound, while still sticking to our own style. The energy was there and the rest just happened as usual – immersing in the magic of the studio and channelling our feelings!’

The EP’s four tracks span just over eighteen minutes, and while they are certainly very rhythmically-orientated, in terms of commercial dance, they’re not what anyone would call bangin’ dance choonz – not even your dad or your grandad. Sonically, Infinite sits somewhere in the middle ground between the minimal techno favoured by Gilles Peterson on his 6 Music show, and the kind of stuff I find modular synth fanatics noodling out at the Electronic Music Open Mic nights we have around the country.

‘I Saw the Future’ is, ironically, a squelchy analogue workout that’s decidedly retro, and the sparse vocals are more 90s dance track dub remix than avant-garde futurism. The vocal snippets add layers or mystique and esotericism, ‘Hurricane’ brings more urgent beats, clattering hand drums rattling over a thudding bass drum and pulsating groove, with weaving synths conjuring an expansive and trace-like atmosphere. The last track, ‘Infinite Mind’ pulses away in an inwardly-focused way.

This isn’t music that will send you wild or dance yourself into a frenzy, but will instead likely catapult you into inner space, and inspect your own psychological circuitry – in a most pleasant way. It kinda sounds like the cover looks.

AA

a0263571887_10

10th December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s widely discussed how recent years have witnessed attention-spans ever shortening, as the effects of life in postmodern society impact our day-to-day lives. Bombarded constantly by a million media sources, adverts popping up all over everything all the time, using multiple devices and apps simultaneously, we’re all expected to be everywhere and doing everything all at once. It’s no wonder that streaming services record a skip rate of over 50%, and in the region of 25% of songs are skipped within the first five seconds. In my line of work, I have to decide pretty swiftly if a release is worth my time and the expenditure of energy on devoting words to it, but five seconds? That said, any track that starts with a howl of feedback is always going to grab my attention, so Angry Old Man are onto a winner here with ‘Quatram’. The question is, can they capitalise on it?

The answer is yes. The feedback gives way to a classic hard rock riff, soon followed by crashing drums. With real swing and swagger, it’s a riff you can really bang your head along to. The vocals, though, are grunge all the way, a gritty drawl. The guitars step up a notch and drive home, thick with distortion to a solid riff-centric ending. And clocking in at under two-and-a-half minutes, it’s just right for the attention-deficient. There’s no pissing about here, slamming in hard and leaving the job done before you know what’s hit you.

AA

su80409-Quatram_Cover3