We Become Strangers is the debut EP from the new darkwave project, The Bleak Assembly, a collaboration between Kimberly of Bow Ever Down and Michael Smith of Fiction8. While there are a few electronic textures here and there, We Become Strangers is straight-up post-punk and darkwave. Guitars, drums, and songwriting with hooks for days. This EP sits more comfortably alongside Siouxsie & the Banshees, ACTORS, and Bootblacks than it does VNV Nation or Covenant.
Add to that list Skeletal Family, Ghost dance, later March Violets. It’s pure vintage mid-80s goth.
Regarding the nature of ‘change’ that inspired the EP, Michael Smith states, “if there’s a theme to this EP, it’s in recognizing how we’ve changed as artists and as people. What if you met your younger self and your younger self didn’t even recognize you? That’s what We Become Strangers is about. Kimberly goes on to say, “It’s a strong feeling of ‘being cut from the past’. It’s a little alienating but also very liberating.”
Seattle’s Calm Collapse Release ‘Welfare Tour’, the next single off the forthcoming album Mirrored Nature, out on November 25th.
Featuring a Roster of Indie Rock Nobility: Doug Lorig (Roadside Monument), Rob Smith (Traindodge, Museum of Light), Jon Pease (Medicine Bows)
Recorded With Matt Bayles (Botch, Mastodon, Minus The Bear)
Listen here:
Featuring a roster of indie rock nobility, Calm Collapse is comprised of Doug Lorig (Roadside Monument Patrol, Raft of Dead Monkeys) on guitar/vocals, Rob Smith (Traindodge, Museum of Light) on drums/keys, and Jon Pease (Medicine Bows) on bass. After meeting at a show in Seattle, Lorig and Smith began to build the framework for what would ultimately become the band’s debut record, Mirrored Nature. "From the early days we documented and cataloged almost every riff, song idea, arrangement, tweak, etc., iterating through so many changes to create a finalized version of these songs," says Pease, who solidified the band’s lineup shortly after its inception. "Everything that is heard on this record is extremely intentional. Not to say that we didn’t experiment or have happy accidents in the recording process. But we combed through and dissected all of our parts to craft something with intention." The sonic result is driving, angsty, and propulsive, but still open and spacious. The grind of Melvins, the melodic discernment of Chavez, and the ethereal tendencies of Grails and Black Mountain.
With so much experience and groundwork laid with previous projects, a guiding force for Calm Collapse was continuing to chart familiar waters, but in a new and fresh direction. "For me, the last couple of bands that I’ve been in have generally been more heavy than other previous projects I’ve done. But with this project, I didn’t want it to be one-dimensional," says Lorig. "It’s generally the kind of music that I’ve been writing for years. Songwriting has always been a tedious process for me. I generally write in bunches but with long lapses in between, so some of these songs or parts have been kicking around for several years — I just needed the right couple of guys to be able to finally flesh these ideas out." Smith adds, "[Doug’s] ideas are by and large more rhythmically and harmonically complex than my other bands, so sometimes he needs to just play them for a while before I can find a way in. It can be weeks of messing with an idea before it takes the shape of a song." The result of this project is a propulsive and heavy listening experience, punctuated by memorable melodies and cinematic and ambient arrangements. "Even though a lot of our album is on the heavier side, we did not want to trap ourselves in," says Lorig. "The album goes in several directions — we did not want to follow the common things that heavy bands seem to do. We all had a common goal to write songs that had movement and took us places."
In order to bring Mirrored Nature to life, the band brought in acclaimed producer Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Foxing, Isis) to help execute the vision. "We knew for our music to come across convincingly that the record had to be produced at a higher level. This is why we went with Matt Bayles. I have worked with Matt on a previous couple other projects over the years, so I knew what we were going to be getting. I can say that it definitely was not the easiest thing I’ve ever done — quite the contrast, it was probably the hardest record that I’ve done, but the end product is everything that I had hoped it would be. It sounds huge and expansive," says Lorig. "Matt definitely challenged us to a high standard during the production phase, but it paid off in a huge way," says Pease. "I think because we were so invested and prepared to craft this record, Matt stepped up to meet us there. He really put in a lot of care and detail in the recording, mixing, and production phases that makes this record sound as great as it does."
With time comes perspective, and even after a number storied releases, tours, and iterations, Calm Collapse represents another evolution for the trio. A chance to disassemble the artistic past, evaluate what worked, and reassemble with a new perspective. "It has been my passion since I was a little kid to create music," says Lorig, "and that passion still lives on to this day as I’ve gotten older. I still love the process of creating, recording, and playing music live. Part of it also has been that I feel I can always one-up the last project that I was in. [Mirrored Nature] is probably my proudest achievement — but I’m definitely looking forward to trying to get even better on the next record."
Ahead of the release of their debut LP, Gameplay, out next month, Third Lung have crashed in with the third single released in advance of it, and its message of self-affirmation, it’s not only an anthem, but something of a message to both themselves and their peers, with its refrain of ‘Go big or go home’. Third Lung have gone big since day one, and it’s clear that their musical ambition and ambition in terms of audience are both immense. It’s clear they won’t be content with touting their wares sound the pub circuit for long, and that they have their eyes firmly fixed on those academy venues as a minimum. So many bands do, of course, and they’re completely deluded. Where Third Lung differ is that they have the material to get them there, and ‘No Names’ is yet another huge, huge song.
With a hazy guitar washing over a thumping beat, they’re very much taking their own advice: ‘No Names’ sounds immense and builds from a nagging intro to a smouldering verse, and it’s one of those songs that builds and builds. It’s not that Third Lung really sound like 80s U2, but they have that passion and edge (no pun intended) that evokes the spirit of U2 in the run-up to The Joshua Tree – so it’s more their Unforgettable Fire, in a sense, or the space between that and War. But hopefully you get the idea: this is bold and ambitious, without the aura of pomp or overbearing ego or the mullet.
Third Lung have a clear knack for killer tunes and know how to bring them with a rush of energy that’s totally infectious. If they don’t go massive in the next twelve months, then there is absolutely no justice in this world.
Between 2005 and 2011, Dance to the Radio was the label that wasn’t lonely synonymous with the Leeds scene, it practically was the Leeds scene, and contributed to putting the city and its bands back on the map, releasing The Pigeon Detectives, Forward Russia, This Et Al, iLiKETRAiNS, and Grammatrics, as well as a number of wide-ranging compilations featuring the like of Pulled Apart by Horses. Returning in 2017 after a six-year hiatus, they’ve focused on a small but carefully-curated roster, giving a home to Tallsaint, Aural Aggro faves Dead Naked Hippies, Jake Whiskin, and Hull’s Low Hummer, who may be relatively new but have established themselves quickly, showcasing an energetic alt-rock sound that incorporates elements of grunge, punk, postpunk, and electro-pop with potent results. Debuting in October 2019 with the single ‘I Choose Live News’, the band have marked a steadily upward trajectory in the profile stakes ever since.
Granted, over half the tracks on Modern Tricks For Living have been released as singles in the last couple of years or so, making this as much a compilation as an album proper, but nevertheless, it hangs together nicely, on account of its stylistic unity and lyrical themes, and it’s well sequenced too, with the ups and downs just where they need to be.
Classic themes of angst, anxiety, and alienation dominate, and they never grow tired or fade. They possess a universality and an eternal relevance. The power and passion of the emotions may fade with age, but they never go away: most disaffected teens still feel it, unless they sell out and become self-satisfied, complacent parts of the machine. And some do – I’ve lost friends that way – but many of us still burn with the anguish of adolescence. As such, despite the band’s youth, there’s a universality in their appeal.
‘These days I feel like I’m dead’: the drawling vocal on ‘Tell You What’ is pure grunge nihilism, but there’s a sparkly electropop aspect to it, too. And the more you delve into Modern Tricks For Living, the more detail and the more canny crafting it reveals: amidst the brashy, trashy surface, there’s a lot more going on. These songs aren’t superficial, rushed, three-chord thrashes – well, they are, but they’re a lot more besides, and that’s the appeal of Low Hummer.
‘Take Arms’ packs some attack and makes for a strong opener. It doesn’t waste any time in planting a powerful earworm, with a motorik beat and bubbling synth bass providing the spine of a spiky punky indie banger that’s pure 90s in its vibe – the guitars fizz and the shouty female backing vocals reactive the riot grrrl sound and it kicks hard.
One of the few tracks not to have been released previously, ‘Don’t You Ever Sleep’, is an exuberant, bouncy paean to boredom that powers through in a whirl of synths in two and three quarter minutes, and it’s exhilarating, and ‘I Choose Live News’ crashes in as the third track, and it’s another relentless rush.
The Curesque ‘Never Enough’ (one suspects the title isn’t entirely accidental either) brings a change of tempo and switches the full-throttle fizz for an altogether dreamier form. It’s well-placed, and proves they’re not one-dimensional or one-pace, hinting at a range that they’re yet to fully explore. Slinging lines like ‘I hate this place / I hate the world’ , they pack in the angst and nihilism
‘Sometimes I Wish’ has some neat bass runs and a cyclical guitar riff that builds, while a wild lead part tops it all off. The tempo change towards the end is both unexpected and well-executed. ‘Slow One’ isn’t all that slow, but these things are all relative, and ‘The People, This Place’, another previous single release provides a blistering finale. And what can I say? This is a cracking album from beginning to end, that presents a solid selection of songs. Modern Tricks For Living is exciting and exhilarating, and it’s as simple as that.
Six months on from ballsy grunger ‘Underground’, Kath & The Kicks return with their fourth single, ‘I’m Alive’. The news of their being alive comes as something of a relief. It may sound like I’m being facetious – As usual – but I do mean it. Even before the pandemic, I’ve discovered people who’ve been off radar for a while are no longer with us, and in the last year or so, many of us have lost friends or relatives – not necessarily to Covid-19 – without being able to exchange our last words or see them that one last time.
For bands accustomed to working together, in a room, lockdown has impacted many, including Kath & The Kicks, who’ve had to adjust their approach in order to continue writing and recording new music, and ‘I’m Alive’ marks something of a stylistic shift from its predecessor.
‘I’m Alive’ starts out subtle, brooding, with lacings of post-punk draped around a soft, insistent bass and understated chorus-tinged guitar… and then when the chorus hits it absolutely erupts. Bass and guitars set to stun, it kicks in with maximum swagger and a deep, deep groove that’s hard and absolutely gripping, going straight for the jugular.
This is more stoner rock than anything else, for those set on genre: otherwise, it’s just a monumental riff-led beast of a tune which really showcases Kath & The Kicks’ versatility and their knack for monster riffs. What more do you need?
I’m always pleased to hear from Nathan Argonaut, because it invariably means he’s made some new music. He and Lorna have certainly been keeping busy writing and recording under their Videostore moniker while under lockdown, and sire enough, his most recent missive came with a link to the ‘brand spanking new single from the Videostore, written and recorded in the doldrums this week!’
It does very much seem to have been one of those low weeks for many, myself included, so a new sliver of their choppy lo-fi indie makes for a welcome arrival. Better still, it’s a corker: the drum machine is half-buried in the verses beneath a thumping fat bass and sustained synth note. ‘Over thinking, over drinking solution friendly messy ending’ the intonate in monotone, encapsulating the ennui with wonderful simplicity and precision.
Prefacing the lyrics, the BandCamp release, features the line ‘We must be out of our brilliant minds…’ On noticing, I then spent the next half hour – and more – watching first the video for Furniture’s 1986 single ‘Brilliant Mind’ followed by a slew of contemporaneous content. Such is my mind-blank distractibility. I forgot to finish the review and instead went on an epic mental diversion.
And then the guitar detonates all over everything, an overloading blast of distortion, and I’m reminded of the obliterative wall-of-noise bursts on The Jesus and Mary Chain song ‘Taste The Floor’.
‘Your Mind’ is an explosive release of tension that fizzes and flames all over, landing somewhere between The JAMC and more recent peers Scumbag Philosopher. It’s also quite possibly their best work to date.
It’s no secret: I fucking love cheese. To the extent that it’s the single foodstuff that prevents me from being vegan, and to the extent that if I had to live on any one type of food, it would be cheese. Forget pudding, gimme the cheeseboard. In fact, scrap starters and mains, just give me all the cheese. My 4-tier wedding cake consisted of a wheel each of Brie, Stilton, Cornish Yarg, and a truckle of mature cheddar. So I kinda feel that Chronic Johnny’s debut single is a song that should appeal, regardless of actual content.
Harrogate may not be an obvious place to spawn a ‘wild noiserock trio’ like Chronic Johnny, but on reflection, it makes sense: it’s a lovely, leafy, middle-class market town close to York. What could possibly spur a bunch of guys to make angular, guitar-driven racket, the sound of anger and frustration in a setting like this? Well, precisely a setting like this. There’s always something to rebel against, always a reason to feel disenfranchised. And always a reason to make noise.
And Chronic Johnny make a cracking noise of a decidedly 90s alternative vintage, all spiky, overdriven guitars that jerk and jolt, and peppered with a substantial dash of rockabilly / surf spice, not least of all in the manic, yelping vocals. It’s such a frenetic, hybridized racket that comparisons are pretty pointless; it’s more that this furiously dirty din, driven by a growling, busy bassline, draws together the essence of a period in time, and drags it, squalling and brawling into the present. It’s gnarly, and it kicks ass.
It’s more or less a fact – and not a happy one – that much of the strongest and most meaningful art comes from dark personal places. And so it is that Mollayanna’s new single, ‘Human Error’ is taken from an album of material, which will shortly be released under the title Archaeology, written last year by front-woman Bernadette, and which charts her experience of surviving abuse and undergoing therapy.
Speaking candidly, she says, ‘One thing I realised in therapy was that I’d spent so long trying to micromanage things, clinging to relationships and behaviours and hadn’t really stopped to assess if any of it was still making me happy. Once I let go and those people and situations fell away, I felt nothing, too. Emptiness. But also relief? And that’s what ‘Human Error’ is about. The frustration at putting all your effort into something only to realise it’s not what you wanted.’
And so ‘Human Error’ is a tidy slice of indie-ish alt-rock with sweetly melodic vocals that’s easy on the ear but harder on the heart. The lilting minor chords of the clean rhythm guitar has hints of Dinosaur Jr, while the remaining musical layers sit somewhere between Paramore and Fleetwood Mac (Bernadette manages moments that really do hint at Stevie Nicks, and also has a decidedly folksy twist to her vocal style) but then again, and the emotional range is closer to The Twilight Sad as Bernadette pours every ounce of soul into a narrative of giving all for limited returns while being trapped in a cycle.
Oh, and there’s a whopping great guitar solo that plays out through to the fade. It’s as indulgent a solo as you’ll get, but doesn’t feel indulgent, somehow, and fades are chronically underused these days. It all adds up to a great single, and a strong pitch for the upcoming album, too.
It’s fitting that noisy-post-punk London duo Modern Technology should have recorded a live session at the Shacklewell Arms under the banner of Exploding Head: everything about the band to date has been explosive, from the sonic blitzkrieg of the eponymous debut EP to their growing fanbase, due to a committed live schedule which has seen them deliver some killer performances. The fact they’re thoroughly decent guys whose sociopolitical message extends beyond the lyrics and into the active donations of proceeds and profits to charitable causes hopefully counts for something, too: they’re not Bono about it: they just fucking get on and do it. and so the proceeds from this release are going to Crisis at Christmas ‘to help support the homeless during this critical time of year and to help fund and support Crisis’ vital year-round work with homelessness’.
Hearing the nihilistic fury of the music, it’s clear that this philanthropy is born almost entirely of frustration and despair at social injustice and inequality, and this six-tracker captures the live experience very well indeed, with four tracks culled from the aforementioned EP along with a brace of new cuts in the shape of ‘All is Forgiven’ and ‘Bitter End’.
It packs full-throttle viscerality from beginning to end, and two things stand out on this release: 1) the colossal noise they churn out with just bass and drums 2) how faithful to the studio renditions the EP songs are.
2) is a testament to how tight and well-rehearsed they are, with metronomic grooves holding everything together 1) is about ore than just pedals. Modern Technology do volume and appreciate that effects and all that stuff only fill so much space. Ultimately, there is no substitute for hard volume. There is a 3), as well. What’s unique about Modern Technology’s sound is that for all the thunderous density, they create a vast amount of space, and the way the air hangs between the notes, between the punishing snare hits, creates a stark, yet simultaneously oppressive atmosphere.
‘I ain’t quick, I ain’t cheap’ Chris Clarke barks on ‘Queue Jumper’, against a backdrop of tumultuous drums and a grating bass chord that sustains into infinity. It’s a simple but effective refrain that’s instantly memorable. It’s all in the delivery, of course.
The new material is monumentally dense and abrasive, with the downtuned, sinewy riffage of ‘All is Forgiven’ reminiscent of Melvins, while ‘Bitter End’ is sparse, slow and bleak and throws in a vaguely psychedelic twist in the verses, crashing into a grinding low-tempo riff for the chorus, such as it is.
One of my bands of 2019, and with dates booked for 2019 already (I may have something (ruined) of a vested interest in the February dates), Modern Technology are a band on the up because they’re a band for our times.
The second album from Baltimore trio Gloop is noisy, messy, manic. The liner notes describe it as ‘a splattering Jackson Pollock painting of a full-length record’, and refers to their sound as ‘a kind of skewed rock music that recalls Shudder to Think, and the Pixies at their harshest and weirdest’.
It is harsh, but that harshness doesn’t come from heaviness, but from a chaotic squall of treble and wildly unpredictable song structures. It’s got the punk spirit and some aggression in its execution, but not exactly post hardcore, either, but a jarring, jolting racket that has many of the hallmarks of math-rock played in such a way as to sound perpetually out of time and out of tune with itself. It’s skewiff, not in a slacker Pavementy way, but in a demented, all-over-the-shop demented Trumans Water way. If I say it’s enough to give anyone a headache, it’s by no means a criticism: we’re attenuated to tune into regular rhythms, accordant tonality, tunes. Smiling Lines has none of these, breaking every last rule of musicality by pulling apart the very fabric of rock music and stretching it, twisting it, tearing it, stomping on it, before examining the stained tatters and deciding ‘yes, this is what we were after.’
Dom Gianninoto’s vocals are kinda shouty, but he’s given to shriek, whoop, and holler and pitch up to falsetto at any instant, adding to the crazed unpredictability of it all. Smiling Lines is the sound of wide-eyed, frenzied derangement, a relentless rollercoaster, a furious flurry of frets. It’s a short, sharp shock, and it’s fucked-up, but it’s ace.
Aural Aggravation 