Archive for the ‘Singles and EPs’ Category

Scruff of the Neck

Christopher Nosnibor

False Heads preface the arrival of their new album, Sick Moon, which is due at the end of September with the single ‘Thick Skin’, produced by Frank Turner.

Front man Luke Griffiths tells it straight when discoursing on the single’s inspiration and purpose, saying ‘“Thick Skin’ is about how much I f****** hate the current political discourse. To me, politics seems to be completely and utterly middle-class from left to right – class has been seemingly removed from a lot of left-wing politics.”

It’s hard to argue when the leader of the Labour opposition, supposedly the party of the workers, is a knighted ex-lawyer. Small wonder the workers are applauding RMT union head Mick Lynch as the voice of the people, since he’s the only one who’s really telling it like it is, and using his platform opportunities to explain just why everything is so fucked. No-one else is talking about how wages aren’t the issue in the “cost off living crisis”, it’s the fact that wages are being suppressed to preserve profits. People are struggling while CEOs rake in staggering salaries and bewildering bonuses and shareholders reap megadividends at the expense of the poor cunts who do the work and so effectively make those profits possible.

Griffiths goes on: ‘It’s also about social media politics. That kind of rage and vitriol is some form of lashing out for mental health problems and it’s like a form of addictive behaviour. I understand this, dealing with depression and having a history of drug abuse, and I understand how difficult it is to not let that rage inside you come out in vicious ways. But I just feel like social media has allowed a million different forms of religion, nationalism and tribalism to be completely normalised. Our brains are rotting and there is no hope, and every time I feel like there is I’m stung again.’

Again, it’s relatable on a mass scale. Religion is no longer the opium of the people: it’s social media, and it’s divisive, crushing, and debilitating.

‘Thick Skin’ packs all of this into two minutes and forty of guitar-driven grunge with a radio-friendly edge that sits between Asylums and DZ Deathrays, in that it balances attack with melody, big guitars with strong hooks. It’s a cracker!

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Nynode Intermedia – 27th May 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

In case it needed restating, the pandemic really dig screw everything up for everyone. I’m not even going to go there again now.

As the press release that accompanies this new EP from Philipp Rumsch Ensemble, the Leipzig based composer, pianist and sound designer Philipp Rumsch and his twelve-piece ensemble ‘had the finger on the pulse when they released their concept album μ: of anxiety x discernment.’

Anxiety peaked globally barely a month later, and the world was held in the grip f panic for the best part of the subsequent two years.

The album, ‘recorded partly with the use of a special binaural recording technique to create a three-dimensional soundstage…was praised by Electronic Sound, BBC, NDR and many more. Furthermore, the release assured the band’s recognition being one of the most exciting large ensembles in Europe.’

But you can’t lug a large ensemble round Europe when it’s locked down and there’s travel chaos and no-one knows what the hell’s going on, and it’s not easy to collaborate with international artists other than digitally either. But, two years in the making, it’s finally landed: ‘the rework EP μ: of transfiguration x resonance is finally seeing the light of the day. Four artists / collectives contemplating on the album’s material from different points of view by deconstructing the core material and putting it together in new ways. The prestigious lineup consists of musicians and sound artists from the ensemble’s creative environment. Jana Irmert (collaborations with, i.a., Jóhann Jóhannsson), Shramm aka Jörg Wähner (Apparat, Bodo Bill, Dieter Meier and many more), Moritz Fasbender (the most recent project of musician Friederike Bernhardt) and the string trio Toechter (Lisa Marie Vogel, Katrine Grarup Elbo and Marie-Claire Schlameus) each contributed one track’.

I’m almost inclined to steep back and applaud the fact they’ve simply done it, and that’s not sarcasm. As a taster, Jana Irmert’s ‘Echo’ is being released as a single.

There’s something quite intriguing in the very concept of a single from a work like this, and it challenges the conventional function of a single in some respects. At heart, the single over many years has served as – primarily – a promotional tool to shift album units, by providing a snippet of the album that shows its best side, so to speak. Historically, it was released in the hope of achieving radio or other coverage, or even a chart position, to boost album sales. And perhaps this will also do that: after all, the soft, undulating organ drones and soft wafts of analogue synth, and trilling oboe, amidst the sounds of winds and waves are soporific and mesmerising in their slow atmospherics. It’s soft and appealing, and so, so agreeable. In these troubled times, we need more untroublesome music, and this fits that bill.

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It’s Creation Baby – 1st July 2022

From Cat SFX’s social media – or specifically, Cat Speranza as the face and embodiment of CAT SFX, you could be forgiven for forgetting that there’s a band happening. But why should all social media be about promotion, about the dayjob? For many artists, life inform art, and so the everyday – the shit, the weirdness, the boredom – is all integral to the making of the art.

Since their inception a couple of years or so ago, the London four-piece have had a blistering run of singles, and now look to cement their reputation as an exciting band on the rise with their debut EP, from which title track ‘Binman’ is the lead cut.

It’s an edgy post-punk effort, starting out with a taut, jittery verse with hints of early PJ Harvey before settling into a solid groove that nods to the musical stylings of Garbage, as well as The Jesus and Mary Chain circa Automatic and 80s pop era Psychedelic Furs.

‘I’m no good / never said that I was, never said that I could’, Cat sings in the breezy chorus. It sound so effortless, almost throwaway – which is fitting, since this is a song about kicking out the trash, when you are the trash, but at the same time, carries so much honesty, so much sincerity, so much realism, it’s impossible not to be completely hooked, completely sold. Because this, THIS is what perfect pop is. It’s not flimsy, throwaway, disposable, meaningless: pop resonates, grabs you, gets into your head with a catchy tune but at the same time hits you and stays with you. Cat SFX know this – they don’t say it, they just deliver it.

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Binman

Gold Mold Records – 7th July 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Moni Jitchell don’t piss about, and in deference to that attitude, neither shall I: this EP is an absolute blinder. Crashing in somewhere between Blacklisters, and Daughters, or like Pulled Apart by Horses on speed, it delivers five fast ‘n’ furious cuts in as many minutes, and it’s not hard to figure how the Glasgow duo scored a slot supporting Mclusky earlier in the year with their brand of irreverent, full-throttle shouty noise that’s too angular to be punk, but too punk to be metal, and too metal to be math… The fact they’ve appeared alongside Leeds noisemongers Thank is perhaps a fair indication of the kind of racket they make.

Only they make it louder and faster, and distil everything to the most absolute optimum potency. The songs are formed, with defined structures and ‘clear’ shape – but compacted to black-hole density, clanging and slamming every whichway, frenetic, kinetic, jarring, jolting, whiplash-inducing blasts of sonic violence.

Grant Donaldson’s drumming is solid and holds everything together through wild tempests of stuttering, stop/start guitar that veers between driving riffs and splintering shards of atonality. The vocals are manic, screamed, and unintelligible, but it doesn’t really matter, as there’s no time to dwell on these things. There’s no time for anything at all.

‘Not a Change’ is a mere thirty—three seconds long, with guitars that buzz like a helium-filled wasp trapped in a hot greenhouse. ‘Split’ is only a second longer, while the ten-second ‘Skelp’ is over before it’s even started.

It’s one of those short sharp shocks that leaves you stunned and sweating, and completely buzzed.

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1st July 2022

James Wellls

Third Lung have been kicking out singles at a remarkable pace over the last year or so, and continue their forward trajectory with ‘Lo Hi’, a song that’s cut from the core of emotional turmoil that’s likely relatable to many. ‘Lo-Hi’ is about how people can find themselves ‘alone not knowing how to move forward. Until, they find the courage to ask and faith in their friends and loved ones to utter the 3 most beautiful words, I Need Help.’

That those words are beautiful, I might question, and would probably disagree with – they’re clunky, awkward, and to many of us, embarrassing, uncomfortable, desperate, a last resort, an admission of failure. But, as the band say, ‘One of life’s most encouraging yet hardest lessons to learn is to trust the people closest to you, with you’.

There’s nothing clunky, awkward, embarrassing, or uncomfortable about the song, though. ‘Lo-Hi’ straddles influences from U2 to The Associates; it’s another big-hitter with arena potential, and surely it’s only a matter of time before they achieve it.

Third Lung Artwork

1st July 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

London / Brighton quartet Insolace consist of Millie Cook (vocals), Conor Hyde (guitar), Sam Bryant (bass) and Onyi Olisa (drums), and I suppose you could reasonably summarise ‘I Won’t Cry’ as one of those ‘strong’ songs – one whereby the ultimate message is one of empowerment, despite it’s primary theme being of mental struggle. Here, against a backdrop of busy, accessible math-orientated jangle Cook pitches lyrics about being in the place of the supporter to someone who’s struggling.

Sonically, on the one hand it’s kinda buoyant emo, and even a bit poppy, but on the other, it’s got a bit of a 2004/5 vibe that I have a certain nostalgia for, which is something I never expected – a time when every other band was jangly, noodly, mathy, and some if it was fun, but ultimately you only need one Explosions in the Sky, and so many Spokes style acts, and probably only one Wintermute…a nd then my brain pokes me with a reminder of Everything Everything. And then you reach a point where less is more, and actually, just a little variety goes a long way.

But it’s easy to be critical, and over time, things do change. Where’s all the noodly math-rock now? Some of it’s here, it seems, and ‘I Won’t Cry’ feels like a 21st Century response to The Cure’s seminal classic ‘Boy’s Don’t Cry’. I Won’t Cry I Won’t Cry’ is busy, and a shade technical. But it’s crisp, and has a solid hook, and for that alone it deserves a wide audience.

Insolace

17th June 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Blackpool isn’t exactly a roaring flame on the musical map, hanging in the shadow of Manchester and being more geared toward tourism than seemingly existing as a place to live in its own right. Sure, Jethro Tull originated in Blackpool, along with – although some time apart – The Membranes, and Alfie Boe – but it’s hardly indicative of a cultural melting pot with a thriving scene to represent it.

Ivory Skies may – or may not – change that. Formed in 2019, they’ve released a couple of singles already, and scored support slots with Kyle Falconer from The View, and The K’s, which puts them on the fringes of the bigger leagues.

Perhaps it’s a coastal town thing: ‘Bring Me Up’ calls to mind the uptempo punk / indie crossover sound of Southend-on-Sea’s Asylums, and it’s buoyant, energetic – inoffensive, but certainly not lacking in a bit of bite, yielding four minutes of melodic, guitar-driven joy with a dash of realism.

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Ivory Skies - Artwork

6th May 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

This latest four-tracker from Panic Lift continues the trajectory of themed EPs that it’s been pursuing for a while now.

With two new cuts and a remix of each, it’s reminiscent of the old-school 7” and 12” formats, and ‘Every Broken Piece’ accompanied by ‘Bitter Cold’ would make for a perfect 7”, with the additional tracks – remixes respectively from Mechanical Vein and Tragic Impulse – fleshing out a 12” and CD… Such reminiscences are relevant because Panic Lift’s harsh industrial dance sound is rooted in the 90s when multi-format releases were de rigueur. Much as they were clearly a way of milking fans and boosting chart positions, I do kind of miss those days, since the majority of releases don’t even come in a physical format.

For Stitched, James Francis, aka Panic Lift, revisits the kind of sound that defined his debut, Witness To Our Collapse, and talking of the physical, there’s a strong physicality to both ‘Every Broken Piece’ and ‘Bitter Cold’ – not just their thumping hard as nails grooves and pounding beats, but the overall density of the sound hits with a physical impact, while the forced, rasping vocals equally hit hard, the sound of anguish and rage and a host of mixed and conflicting emotions aflame.

‘Every Broken Piece’ was a feature of Panic Lift’s online performances during lockdown, and it’s from this place of inner turmoil that these songs emerge, with the accompanying notes pointing out that they ‘continue with the familiar themes of stress, coping, and concerns of self-image’, and the rippling synth lines, juxtaposed against snarling, abrasive vocals, are the perfect expression of internal conflict. There’s a lot going on here in the arrangements, with churning metal guitar grazing against cinematic synths, and the slower chorus on ‘Bitter Cold’ brings impact by contrast.

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MFZ Records – 24th June 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Conceived and recorded between the end of 2021 and the beginning of 2022, this set reflects ‘the everyday troubles Davide [Nicosia, aka Acid Youth], deals with as an individual but also as part of a community’.

The title refers to his ‘desire to get out of the gloom and seek for a reassuring light’, and explores this theme by the vehicle of dance music exploiting the vintage Roland TB-303, produced only for a short time between 1981 and 84. It was supposed to sound like a bass guitar. It didn’t. Of course, it would later come to be appreciated, and Reverse Darkness is a concise encapsulation of the appeal of these vintage analogue machines.

Against shuffling drums – heavy echoed with some thudding bass beats – there are simmering synths that drift and wash, and a flock of fluttering tweets, all underpinned by a thick, bouncing bass groove, ‘Vibrato Brilliance’ is simultaneously sparse yet dense, and Nicosia really starts to warp things up on the dislocated retro-futurist title track.

Acid Youth very much captures not only the sound but also the feel of those early 80s dance cuts, the kind of meandering, gloopy synth works that appeared on soundtracks of movies where computers had green text on little monitors and neon lights were synonymous with the future. Being nine or ten in 1985, it felt exciting; with hindsight, it feels like the future we ended up with is a whole lot less of a rush, but hearing this inspires a kind of nostalgia, not for anything specific, but for a feeling, a sense of a near future, thanks to rapidly evolving technologies, that held near-infinite potential. Setting aside any gloom over the disappointment that those potentials now feel chronically unfulfilled as we stumble through every dystopia ever envisioned rolled into one colossal morass of shit on shit, Reverse Darkness tugs me back to the crackle of excitement that once coursed through culture.

He goes really deep on the uptempo ‘Modded Dub’, full-on bass squelch wobbling and rippling atop an insistent kick drum – but it’s toppy, and really packs a punch towards the chest rather than the gut, and in context creates a different kind of tension by way of the contrast with the thick, bassy bass, and it’s true – they don’t make ‘em like they used to.

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Christopher Nosnibor

I feel like I should keep a tally of the number of cover of Mission of Burma’s 1981 song ‘That’s When I Reach for My Revolver’. For an obscure band whose back catalogue is impossible to find, this song seems to exist in the ether, performed live on recent tours by The Sisters of Mercy, as well as Graham Coxon, as well as being subject to a truly blistering rendition courtesy of Moby during his 90s grunge phase on Animal Rights – and I have to say, that version is hard to beat. And no, not like Hard-Fi, who blow. Funnily enough, pretty much all of the covers have been better than the original, which is something of an inversion of the norm. I’m of the opinion that when it comes to a great tune you a) can’t beat the original b) can’t go wrong with a cover. So what is it with this track? Unfulfilled potential in the execution of the original? Perhaps.

Sirens Of Light slow it down and goth it up, hard – to the point that the verses are barely recognisable and the choruses are dark and grinding. It’s once of those covers where you don’t even recognise the song until it reaches the chorus. What have they done?  They’ve certainly taken ownership (note the title change, too), stamped their mark, and all that cal. In terms of execution, it’s taut, dense, bleak, brooding. It sneers and it’s imbued with a lip-curling sneer.

While it works presentationally and sonically, it feels like they’ve stripped the guts and angst out of the song. That doesn’t mean it’s bad, and it’s all a question of intent. The chorus is well-executed, and hits hard… but seems a shade lacking somehow.  Blown away? Maybe not, but it’s still got a fair bite.

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