Posts Tagged ‘EP Review’

Ecce Shnak – Shadows Grow Fangs

Posted: 19 April 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Christopher Nosnibor

Few bands are less predictable than New York’s Ecce Shnak, and their catalogue is a veritable smorgasbord of flavours and textures. Their last release was the standalone single, ‘Katy’s Wart’, a two-and-a-half minute grungy punk rager presented in the middle of a sort of weirdy supernatural teen drama short film. Before that there as the live EP Backroom Sessions, a 4-song live set recorded at Backroom Studios in Rockaway, NJ released to coincide with a US West Coast tour with Spacehog and EMF.

Then, there was their being featured in the video for EMF’s ‘LGBTQ+ Lover’.

And now, a year on, they finally return to promote their last studio EP, Shadows Grow Fangs, on the East Coast, before hitting Europe and the UK (sadly no longer part of Europe for trade and touring, despite its continental geography), again with EMF – a band who’ve evolved significantly since they first broke in the early 90s. It seems like an appropriate time to catch up with this varied and inventive five-song set.

‘Prayer of Love’ brings together an almost trippy, psychedelic vibe and shades off prog, with a shuffling beat and an almost Cure-like bass. There’s some guitar noise kicking away low in the mix, too, and contrasts abound, although it’s nothing in comparison to ‘The Internet’. It’s 2026 (yes, the EP was released in 2025, but still) – and The Internet has become such a fact of life it’s largely overlooked as a thing. News articles quote comments made in response to posts on X or Instagram as if they have some value, and no-one considers this weird or devaluing. How is it any different from quoting some bloke down the pub or a street heckle as commentary? The track opens with layers of chatter and the scrattering of a reverby shoegaze guitar, then a shuffling beat slides in and in an instant it’s a rap / opera / math-rock hybrid. In some ways, it feels like a retro hybrid that evokes the days when sampling and scratching were innovate and it’s at least twenty years too late, but at the same time, it feel timely, in that never before has shit been stranger, more messed up, more bewildering, as the generation gap grows wider by the week and the different generations – A, Z, X, boomers – evolve their own languages which are incomprehensible to anyone other than their peers. Does anyone actually know what anyone else is saying, let alone what’s going on?

The title track is bombastic and theatrical, but also a bit post-rock and a bit chamber pop and a bit drum ‘n’ bass. The last time I heard anything quite this headspinning was when I discovered Birdeatsbaby, who veered between dark cabaret and metal, while incorporating elements of classical and prog.

The EP’s final song, ‘Stroll With Me’ marks a significant shift, as a sparse, acoustic folk song with gentle organ tones, which is disarming and genuinely pretty.

None of the songs on here sound like any of the others, and nothing on Shadows Grow Fangs sounds like ‘Katy’s Wart’ – or anything else for that, for that matter: Ecce Shnak tunes are like a box of chocolates – only better, because they’ll not rot your teeth and will give your brain something to chew on. What they’ll do next is anyone’s guess, and the live shows are certainly going to be interesting.

AA

TOUR DATES
MAY 07  Philadelphia, PA, USA – Nikki Lopez
MAY 08  Buffalo, NY, USA  – Town Ballroom
MAY 09  Toronto, ON, Canada – Dance Cave
MAY 10  Montreal, QC, Canada – Bar Le Ritz
MAY 11  Boston, MA, USA  – City Winery
MAY 13  New York, NY, USA  – Sony Hall
MAY 14  Millersville, PA, USA  – Phantom Power
MAY 15  Baltimore, MD, USA  – Metro Gallery
MAY 16  Hamden, CT, USA  – Space Ballroom
JUN 02  Manchester, UK – Gorilla
JUN 03  Worthing, UK – The Factory Live
JUN 04  Portsmouth, UK – Kola
JUN 05  Southend, UK – Chinnerys
JUN 06  London, UK – The Garage
JUN 07  Leeds, UK – Brudenell Social Club

AA

Ecce

The 113 – The Hedonist

Posted: 17 April 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

17th April 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

The singles leading up to the release of The Hedonist, the second EP by The 113 have very much been cause for excitement and built a buzz about the band. Each of the four songs is tense, taut, edgy, quickfire vocals spitting lyrical depictions of the grim present in which we find ourselves with a splenetic urgency against a noisy backdrop where the combination of bass, drums, and guitar – in themselves, completely conventional – meld to forge a dense, unified aural assault.

As they put it, The Hedonist ‘revolves thematically around an anti-technology sentiment, raising questions about data, online worlds and how these can be weaponised against you.’ This – and various surveys and reports – is indicative of an increasingly anti-technology (and certainly an anti-AI) sentiment among younger generations. They have reason for concern, and it’s hard to decide what’s scarier, the prospect how personal data will be used, or how entire swathes of jobs will cease to exist in the imminent future. Anyone who blithely pisses about making caricatures and action figures in the name of fun is not only missing the point: they’ve already sold their soul and more. They’re part of the machine.

We’re living in every single dystopian fiction ever created all at once, right now. This isn’t hyperbole. And it feels as if we’re all trapped and helpless. It’s small wonder we’re experiencing a mental health crisis as we see an entire generation coming through paranoid and scared as we witness an existential threat in many ways worse than the cold war, inasmuch as it’s a war on all fronts.

The 113 recognise this, and The Hedonist is an articulation of this infinitely-faceted terror. Every single track is a standout, and in sustaining the high level of intensity across the whole EP, the potency of the material is amplified. Where The Hedonist succeeds is in the way it doesn’t depart from the blueprint of the debut, To Combat Regret, but instead builds on it.

It’s by no means music to chill out to: quite the opposite, in fact. It’ll likely raise your blood pressure and make you clench your jaw and fists. But if there’s a band that encapsulates the zeitgeist, it’s The 113.

AA

012The113_Jan26Press_BNW

Gout – Actual Bastard (EP)

Posted: 8 April 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
0

17th April 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

I happen to know a fair few people who suffer from gout – which may be an indication of my age and the people I associate with – and they will all attest that it really is an ‘actual bastard’. But the title of this EP is also so, so Glaswegian. Living in Glasgow for four years, I came to appreciate that not only is Scotland culturally very different from England – something tourists probably don’t get to absorb in a week or two – but Glasgow has a culture, and a dialect, and countless turns of phrase which are unique to Glasgow. Following my time there, ‘Actual Bastard’ sounds like Glasgow, and the only way it could sound more Glasgae is if it was called Pure Bastard, Pure Wee Bastard¸ or maybe Fuckin Bawbag Cunt Bastard. Glasgow’s probably the only place on the planet where you can call a colleague a cunt in the office and not get into trouble because it’s a term of endearment as well as an insult.

Gout features members of Glasgow bands Lucia & the Best Boys and The Ninth Wave. As the bio notes, though, Gout is ‘a far cry from these projects, however’ (And having caught The Ninth Wave at Live at Leeds (I think) many moons ago, I can attest to this), Gout distils the intensity of hardcore with the low, driven crush of sludge forebears’.

No two ways about it: Actual Bastard is an absolute rager, with rabid, throat-ripping vocals raving and raw over filthy, low-slung churning riffs. The first track, ‘nmate’ lurches headlong into punishing, sludge-laden dirt, calling to mind The Jesus Lizard and the like, but scratcher, heavier, more overtly metal. ‘Too Bleak’ ratchets up the savagery, making for an eardrum-busting assault – but it’s tame in the face of ‘I Am A Beacon of Health and Wellbeing’ which sees the riffery go straight-up Godflesh and the tuning go way down to conjure the most ferocious hybrid of 90s noise rock and extreme metal.

AA

If ‘Junk Sick’ goes a bit easier, with clean chorus-tinged guitar and a slugging bass, it’s not without a brutal lurch into extremity, going early Pitch Shifter meets Fudge Tunnel around the midway point.

‘Tarmac’ brings peace at last with a spoken word narrative and clean guitar strum. ‘I’m the eldest of two / You’re the youngest of three / I’m just tarmac to you / you can walk all over me… just walk all over me’, Ally Scott mutters tensely. Here, it registers that this is not just a band doing it for a bit of a laugh: there’s real emotional depth buried amidst the tempest of noise. But of course this revealingly introspective moment is swiftly swallowed in a welter of noise. What does cut through is pure rage and anguish, a cathartic offloading of trauma, amidst a swirl of metal meets shoegaze. The impact level is high, and ‘Tarmac’ only elevates the power of Actual Bastard. I’m foraging for words here, in the face of overwhelming musical might.

Gout sure as hell don’t hold back, and Actual Bastard is a flailing, furious, rampant, relentless beast of an EP.

AA

ACTUAL_BASTARD_EP_COVER_ART

Teleost – Teleost

Posted: 25 March 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
0

22nd March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

After an eon evolving their sound with comparatively little to show in terms of releases, Teleost have really picked up the pace of late: Three Originals was released in January 2025, followed by ATAVISM in December of last year, and here we are barely three months on faced with a new eponymous EP. Clearly, they concentrate their mental energy into the music rather than the naming of their EPs – and rightly so. The title is inconsequential: the music is what this is all about. moreover, what this, and what Teleost are all about, is exploring those dark tones and the ways in which frequencies resonate against one another, particularly at volume.

Live shows – particularly of late – have more than attested to the necessity for volume for Teleost, in the same was as is true for Earth, and Sunn O))). The simple fact is that some sounds, some frequencies, some resonant interplays, simply cannot occur at low volumes. Anyone who suggests that these bands – and Swans and A Place to Bury Strangers, among others – exploit volume gratuitously simply doesn’t understand the way in which vibrations change things. Teleost, however, very much do. And with their ultra-slow doom-drone, this is a band who really go into microcosmic detail when it comes to tonal shifts and reverberations within their great wall of sound.

This – their second EP, and sixth release in all – features three tracks. And once again, epic is the word. The four-and-three-quarter-minute sludgefest that is ‘Palanquin’ feels like a brief bridging piece between the megalithic ten-minute ‘Navigator’ and the eight-minute ‘Standing Stone’. And holy shit, is this heavy.

With Telost, the guitar has always been heavy, thick, grinding, the sound more akin to two guitars – or more – grinding out a speaker-shredding tsunami. But this… this takes it up several notches. It’s not just the guitar sound itself, of course: the production achieves the rare feat of capturing not just the rib-rattling, lung-shredding sound of a duo that take Melvins’ reattenuation of Black Sabbath to a skull-crushing level of pain.

With Teleost, there’s a clear sense of structure, of linear progression, too. ‘Navigator’ starts out gently, a textured hum, a buzzing drone, clean strings strummed but resonating. Low tom beats enter the mix and the build is slow, deliberate. Leo Hancil’s vocals reverberate – detached, a pagan-like incantation low in the mix. The suspense builds. Dissonance chimes, but still we traverse through deep fog and mud-thick tracks. And then at five minutes, it hits. And it hits so hard but so sweetly. The impact is immense. THAT is a riff, and how to land it. It completely knocks the air from your lungs, then proceeds to tear your limbs off, one by one, while shredding your skin with blunt but brutal claws.

How two people can create this organ-bustingly megalithic noise is unfathomable. But they do, time and again, growing ever more immense with each show, and with each recording. Yes, I say it every time, but every time, it’s true: Teleost have transcended to another echelon with this release: denser, heavier, louder, more punishing – and at the same time more immersive and transportative.

AA

AA

cover

Polevaulter – Descending

Posted: 19 March 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
0

13th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Polevaulter are very much a band of the times. The cost of living and the fact bands make no money has driven a marked shift towards duos and power trios, and notably electronic music and drum machines have become popular again. The less kit you’ve got, the easier it is to rehearse at home or in a small space, there’s less to the logistics of getting a smaller number of people with minimal gear around (hell, the logistics of getting people in the same place at the same time around work and family and all that shit), and any fees and proceeds from merch are split fewer ways. Necessity and invention, and all that. And notably, there’s a lot of angry electro-led noise coming out of the north. Benefits are clearly up there in representing this thing, which isn’t anything like a movement, any more than the emerging goth scene in the 80s was a movement, but an artistic current, a zeitgeist. But we also have the likes of The Sick Man of Europe, Machine Mafia, and Polevaulter. These guys are something of the exception, in that they’re a shade dancier, but given the buzzing bass fury and relentless rage in the vocals, they’re never going to trouble any regular townie nightclubs, let alone any charts or Radio 1 Dance.

On the new EP, Polevaulter frontman Jon Franz said, “’Descending’ is our most cohesive and controlled EP, and also the most raw and direct. We wanted to reach people immediately, give them something to quickly digest and then say exactly what we wanted to say. The vocals start quick in each song. It progresses down through the EP into an anxious rave, the themes about being lied to all your lives and believing what you are told coming from power down to the working people. It’s our darkest and danciest EP I think.”

And so it is that with Descending, Polevaulter deliver four ultra-taut and super-succinct slabs of electro-led abrasion. ‘The Cursor is a Fly’ makes for a comparatively gentle introduction, before the grinding ‘Dogtrack’.the woozy, bulbous subsonic bass is pure dance, but the snarling, disaffected vocal is punk to the core, Franz wheezing ‘Just trying to buy a house, now let me have it… dogtrack… gamble… run down… dogtrack… going round and round and round…’ It’s bleak and hypnotic and bleak and hypnotic and… you get the picture.

‘Manifest’ mines a dark dance groove with a vocal that’s bordering on spoken word, and calls to mind the short-lived and criminally underrated York band Viewer, the technoindie collaboration between the late cult techo legend Tim Wright and vocalist AB Johnson. In other words, it’s a well-balanced hybrid, where thumping beats and techno synths collide with a vocal that draws influence from Jarvis Cocker and Mark E. Smith. ‘I’m going down with the ship’, Franz announced against a clattering backdrop of snashing metallic snare drum detonations and rapidly-shifting synth gyrations.

The final track, ‘Soothsayer’, is the EP’s longest, and a sparse, haunting intro paved the way for a dark, reverb-heavy electrogoth groove with hushed, hypnotic vocals over an almost subliminal bass groove cut through with a heartbeat kick drum and smashing snare and builds to a tense, suffocating climax.

These are dark times, and it is definitively grim up north. Polevaulter provide a soundtrack to this, while countering bleak nihilism with some almost euphoric dance synths. Descending offers escapism in the same space as the darkest pessimism. The conflicts and contradictions are navigated successfully, though. Polevaulter have taken a massive leap here, and really gone beyond their previous works.

AA

AA

Polevaulter

The Sunken Land – worm moon sessions

Posted: 12 March 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

6th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

My first encounter with The Sunken Land was at the York EMOM (that’s Electronic Music Open Mic) at the start of the month. There were looks and mumblings of surprise, confusion, and even consternation within my vicinity. These events attract makers of a broad spectrum of music, from those who dabble to the obsessives, from laptops to modular setups to self-made kit, and from pop to ambience to far more experimental stuff. Often, there’s much interest and conversation in the gear being used, particularly as a fair bit of the kit is rather novel. ‘What is that?’ began to be asked around as The Sunken Land’s set started. There was incredulity, amazement at the instrument being wielded on stage, something alien to these night. It was a guitar.

The man playing, it, one David Martin, was conjuring layered soundscapes, pleasant to the ear, but underpinned with a physical density. It was well executed, and powerful, and distinct.

worm moon sessions, released the following day, captures the sound of that live performance well.

While there’s apparently no scientific evidence, there is plenty of anecdotal indication that people feel different on and around full moon. Werewolf mythology is but one example of the way the power of the moon seems to affect us, and since this satellite planet drives the Earth’s tides, it’s hardly surprising we also feel that we sense its force. There’s also something compelling, mesmerising, hypnotic, about a large, bright moon, or a moon with an aura, or displaying an unusual hue. This year’s worm moon, on 3rd March, was particularly unusual, emerging a fiery red from a total lunar eclipse, and perhaps some of this rare power filtered into The Sunken Land’s recordings here. While worm moon sessions may not represent an immense leap from demos 2026, released in February, there’s most definitely evidence of a gradual honing of the ‘bedsit doomgaze’ form here.

AA

AA

‘worm moon’ brings the heavy drone of Sunn O))) but with elements of melody rising out of the dense sonic swamp. These melodic details, in context, evoke the form of later Earth. It’s the kind of slow, deliberate guitar work that compels the listener to really hone in on the textures and tonality, the way the notes of a struck chord – thick with distortion and expanded with reverb – interact with one another.

The shorter ‘almost true’ is altogether lighter, more graceful, emphasising the ‘gaze’ aspect of the self-made genre tag. It’s still dense and underpinned with slow, droning distortion, but there’s a soft, almost ethereal hue around it, and the experience is ultimately uplifting, like the first signs of spring.

AA

AA

a3144201409_10

Gareth Jones – 53_StOlaves : Response

Posted: 5 January 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Mortality Tables – 5th January 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Mortality Tables’ Impermanence Project has grown legs over the course of the last year, and has offered some remarkable, striking, and intensely personal responses to the theme. And as the title of this latest addition to the expanding body of work emerging under the project’s auspices alludes, Gareth Jones’ 53_StOlaves : Response is a response to a response, so to speak, adding layers of interpretation but also a certain kind of dialogue to the project.

The original St Olaves (St Olaves : Catharsis) was recorded label owner and project curator Mat Smith and released in June, and stands as one of the most intense and deeply personal pieces, a churning whorl of noise distilled from a field recording made by Smith at St. Olave’s, Hart Street, London. Amidst it, there are footsteps, voices, all vague and barely audible in the overwhelming wall of sound. The accompanying notes relate, ‘For a brief moment, you settled into silence. I said that I loved you again. It seemed to sink in who I was and why I was calling. It would be the last time that I truly connected with you, and I am convinced that despite the blur of the drugs and your Alzheimer’s that you understood.

‘The moment lasted barely a couple of seconds during our nine-minute call, but it felt like an eternity. You began saying that you were about to be taken away for tests, but you didn’t know what the tests were. Except they weren’t tests: you were being taken to theatre.

‘Two hours and five minutes after our call, at 1405, you passed away during surgery.’

It hits hard.

AA

AA

And so we arrive at 53_StOlaves : Response, a field recording made by Jones while on holiday in Greece. He writes, ‘I was moved to create a response to St. Olave’s in the spirit of impermanence understood as, viewed through the lens of, transformation.’

53_StOlaves : Response is a similar duration – meaning it contains just over nine minutes of buzzing, jarring waves of background noise. It glitches frequently, the volume suddenly surging unexpectedly after an ebb, tapering to an elongated organ-like drone before altogether more optimistic-sounding ripples emerge. It has a wistfulness, a certain air of melancholy, but over time, this too dissipates, leaving gentle, dappled ambient hues with understated beats fluttering to the fade.

If St Olaves : Catharsis is the soundtrack to raw anguish and the howl of loss, the staggering bewilderment at the fragility and brevity of life, 53_StOlaves : Response feels like the emergence of acceptance over the passage of time. And this is where Response really comes to add to the theme of impermanence, and it feels like a subtle reassurance that while we likely never necessarily ‘recover’ from those deepest losses, that the wounds will forever remain psychological scars, the pain does ease, eventually, through, as Jones puts it, ‘transformation’. Nothing lasts forever. We transition. We transform. 

AA

AA

a3259884415_10

Pak40 – Superfortress

Posted: 9 December 2025 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Inverted Grim-Mill Recordings – 4th December 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Before we arrive at the present, let’s rewind a bit. Everyone likes some backstory, a hint of prequel, right? So we’re going back to 2018, and the arrival of the Crusts EP by Pak40, a band named after a German 75 millimetre anti-tank gun, and a review which I started by saying that ‘I practically creamed my pants over Pak40’s live show in York, just up the road from my house, a few months back. I didn’t exactly know what to make of them, which was part of the appeal – they didn’t conform to any one style, but they were bloody good.’ 2021 brought the arrival of debut album Bunker, a heavy slugger by any standards.

They’ve always been a band devoted to sonic impact, and since guitarist Leo Hancill paired up with Cat Redfern to form Teleost and then relocated to Glasgow, Pak40 have been resting – but not giving up or growing tame. And more than anything, that time out has been spent in contemplation over intensifying their sound.

It may be that production plays a part, but Superfortress goes far beyond anything previous in terms of density and intensity. This is not to diminish the potent stoner riffery of Bunker, which contained some mammoth tracks with some mammoth riffs, but Superfortress is a major step up. Sure, Bunker was all the bass, but here, they elevate the volume and intensity in a way which replicates the thunderous, ribcage-blasting, ear-flapping force of the live show.

Four years on from Bunker, Superfortress very much solidifies the Sabbath-influenced aspect of their hefty doom / drone sound with the reverb-laden vocals, but also ratchets up the monstrous weight of previous releases by some way.

The first track, the ten-minute megalith that is ‘Old Nomad’ is as heavy as it gets. The drumming is relentless in its weight and thunderous force, but the bass… Hell, the bass. It lands like a double-footed kick to the chest, even through comparatively small speakers, replicating the impact of the live sound on the current tour. ‘Crushing’ may be a cliché but Pak40 deliver a density of sound that just may smash your ribs and smash your lungs. The title track begins tentatively, the riff only forming at first, before the drums and distortion kick in and from then on it’s massive, even before the vocals, bathed in a cavernous reverb arrive. Its low and it’s slow and it’s doomy, but it’s also earthy and rich in that vintage folk horror doom vibe, and it’s the slowed-down Black Sabbath inspired riffing that dominates the third and final cut, the feedback-squalling instrumental ‘Ascend’.

There’s something wonderfully old-school about this – but at the same time, it pushes things further in terms of weight and volume. And in those terms, Superfortress sees Pak40 push those things to an extreme. This is a monster.

AA

AA

a4105998785_10

Now After Nothing – Artificial Ambivalence

Posted: 1 December 2025 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
0

Christopher Nosnibor

13th September 2025

It is impossible to escape AI now, and its ubiquity has arrived at a shocking pace, its acceleration seemingly exponential. You can avoid social media, but can you avoid computers or mobile phones for even more than a few hours? The news – beyond the main headlines, at least – is abrim with reports on how it’s affecting us as individuals, as a species, and the environmental impact. I watch a training video at work: it’s presented by AI actors who move their arms in strange ways and occasionally mispronounce a word in the worst way. Meanwhile, management want us to save time on report-writing by using Copilot. Drained by all of this, I go to the pub for soe decompression time, and the talk is of how jobs are being undermined by AI, and some guy’s got a video AI made using just a photograph. Why? Why do we need this? We don’t, of course, but it’s novel, mindless entertainment that can be created in seconds. Increasingly, it feels like we’re volunteering ourselves for virtual lobotomies. Despite the fact that the current technoscape is every sci-fi dystopia playing out exactly as told in real-time, it seems the majority of people are more than happy to embrace AI. Even writers, artists, and the like, present themselves as ‘curious’ and will engage with AI for prompts or to brush up something they’ve done. But the fact it that it’s a slippery slope, which gets steeper and steeper and further down is an abyss that plunges straight to hell. The worst of it is that it’d becoming increasingly difficult to separate real life.

One of the issues I have personally is that just as every significant technological advancement since the Industrial Revolution brought the promise of more leisure time by making work lighter, the opposite is true – unless you consider unemployment and life on the breadline to be leisure. AI isn’t saving time by vacuum cleaning the house, hanging up the laundry, putting the bins out or doing the school run: it’s simply devaluing creative skills. Anyone who has read an AI-generated article, heard an AI-assisted song, or seen some AI-created art will know that there’s something ‘off’ about it, that it’s soulless and vaguely alien. Meanwhile, the world seems to be spiralling into a cesspit of animosity, hatred, and division. Something happened during the pandemic which meant that when we all emerged from lockdown, war and rage and unspeakable cuntiness exploded on a scale beyond articulation. It’s no wonder people are struggling with life right now.

Now After Nothing is, in some respects, a therapeutic escape from all the shit. Multi-instrumentalist Matt Spatial paired with Michael Allen after what he describes as ‘a relatively difficult time in my life [where] I had become lost and depressed without a creative outlet with which to express myself’. There’s much to say that creativity – and exercise, both physical and mental – are the best self-maintenance. Listening to this EP, it’s clear that Spatial is really pouting everything into this.

His comments on the EP are worth quoting: “Artificial Ambivalence, as a concept, to me represents the state of feeling lost and/or the ‘shutting down’ from the negativity and toxicity around each of us,” Spatial explains. “They say ‘ignorance is bliss’, but in the (mis-)information age we seem to have reached a point of being pummeled into exhaustion from the constant barrage of negativity. For some, while the desire is stronger than ever to make positive change in the world, we might get derailed by feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, and being powerless in a society that seems to increasingly favor only one set of values. For others, it’s the choice to conveniently ignore the inhumane atrocities happening in our society when those atrocities don’t directly impact that individual.”

Of the music, there are references to ‘goth-glam grooves slick with sweat, raw enough to leave a mark’ and a nod to the fact that ‘fans have called it “S&M disco,” a sinister shimmer of punk, industrial grind, and nocturnal new wave.’

The first thing that strikes on the first listen of this EP is the energy. Everything is up-front and it lands like a proper punch in the face. Big, gutsy riffs underpin some sinewy lead guitar parts, driven by some explosive percussion and sturdy, throbbing bass. Straight out the traps, ‘Sick Fix’ blends post-punk and grunge to create a hard-hitting blast, and one that’s got hooks and melody in spades, too, with hints of Big Black in the background. It sets the bar high, but ‘Criminal Feature’ hurdles it effortlessly.

Slowing the pace and changing not only the tempo but the mood, the piano-led ‘Holly’ broods hard and is unashamedly mid-80d goth in its vibe, but also incorporates more post-millennial post-punk and goth in its genetics. The result is – to wheel out a cliché – anthemic. And it is, of course, the perfect mid-set slowie, which sets things up for the chugging, bass-driven beast that is ‘Fixation Fantasy’, a track that’s more 90s alt-rock than post punk or goth. More than anything, I’m reminded of psychedelic grunge also-rans Eight Storey Window in the ear for melody and the emotional heft delivered by some achesome riffs delivered at an intense volume.

‘Dare’ brings some dark pop intimations paired with some searing guitar work which lands like a post-rock Placebo crossed with Salvation – that is to say, it’s richly immersed in that mid-80s Leeds sound. It’s inspired stuff, and then some. Closing off, single release ‘Entangled’ offers glorious shoegaze gentility before breaking into a magnificent slice of synthy post-punk with some massive guitar. Artificial Ambivalence is better than ‘all killer’ (which it is) – it’s next-level solid quality and absolute gold.

AA

a3532593873_10

The Music Liberation Front Sweden – Even Though It Was The Blink Of An Eye, I’m Sorry For What We Have Become

Posted: 23 November 2025 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
0

Mortality Tables – 17th October 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Among their ever-expanding catalogue, Mortality Tables have put out a number of releases which are essentially singles or EPs, with this being one of them: with a running time of just over eleven and a half minutes, this single longform composition is only marginally longer than its title, but its creator, Michael Evill, has condensed a considerable amount of material and experience into this space.

As he writes, ‘I have created a movement which includes the last breaths of my beloved dog Watson. It also includes the last time I recorded with my most talented and wonderful best friend Gustaf in 2001, which I have slowed down so I (and you) can spend more time with him. There are the sounds of new stars being born – my own interpretation and ones ripped off from NASA through this modern internet connection we all have. Surely we own the stars still?

‘We have Aztecs having fun with drums. These were recorded live in Mexico, sadly not from the 14th century before we invaded. We have the hourglass from our kitchen, which Mat inspired me to sample. This was the first idea of this piece and everything else fell in to place very quickly as it’s been swimming in the back of my mind for a while.’

Clearly, some of these elements have deep emotional significance for Michael, but this isn’t conveyed – at least not overtly or explicitly – in the work itself. It’s a collage-type sonic stew, where all of the myriad elements bubble and roil together to form a dense soup, in which none of the flavours are distinct, but in combination, what he serves up is unique, and provided much to chew on. That this protracted food-orientated metaphor may not be entirely coherent is apposite, but should by no means be considered a criticism.

As Evill goes on to write, ‘this was the beginning, and I didn’t spend much time thinking about it and just coalesced those ideas.’ Sometimes, when seeking to articulate life experience, it doesn’t serve to overthink it. Life rarely happens that way: life is what happens when you’re busy thinking and planning. And just as our experiences aren’t strictly linear, neither are our thoughts and recollections. Indeed, our thoughts and memories trip over one another in an endless jumble of perpetual confusion, and the more life we live, the more time we spend accumulating experience – and absorbing books, films, TV, online media, overheard conversations and dreams, the more everything becomes intertwined, overlayed, building to a constant mental babble.

William Burrroughs utilised the cut-up technique specifically to bring writing closer to real life, contending that ‘life is a cut-up… every time you walk down the street, your stream of consciousness is cut by random factors… take a walk down a city street… you have seen half a person cut in two by a car, bits and pieces of street signs and advertisements, reflections from shop windows – a montage of fragments.’

This encapsulates the artist’s quest: to create something which conveys the thoughts in one’s head, to recreate in some tangible form the intangible nebulous inner life, if only to help to make sense of it for oneself.

‘Even Though It Was The Blink Of An Eye’ is a woozy, disorientating churn of noise, which is, at times, dizzying, unsettling, nausea-inducing. But then again, at other times, it’s gentle, even melodic, reflective, contemplative. There are some passages where it’s all of these things all at once. It very much does feel like a scan of the artist’s memory banks, the human brain equivalent of skipping through the RAM files and pulling items seemingly at random. It does feel somewhat strange, even awkward, being granted access in such a way, but at the same time, it feels like ‘Even Though It Was The Blink Of An Eye’ is more than an insight into the mind of one individual, but an exploration of the human psyche.

AA

a0518044244_10

Older Entries