Posts Tagged ‘goth’

Released on Monday (29 July 2024) ‘Please Reply’ is the third promo single release from UK “synth and darkwave firebrands” 404 Error, taken from their debut album, Scene Killers. Hailing from Newcastle upon Tyne in Northern England, 404 Error is the semi-anonymous project of an artist known as 36663. ‘Please Reply’ meanwhile features an animated black and white lyric video, by someone credited only as Arif.

Known for sharp social commentary and provocative takes on goth scene politics, Please Reply is a pastiche drawn largely from the cesspool of unsolicited messages. Drawing from the biting social satire of Fad Gadget and Heaven 17, the lyrics sketch a man in his mancave, desperate and crude, yearning to be a woman’s submissive partner. His attempts to get her attention are filled with insincere promises and disrespect. He calls himself a nice guy, but his focus is selfish, driven by his own needs and desires, completely ignoring her boundaries or interests.

Watch the video here:

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I think it’s terrible that women get messages like these. And I know many receive much worse, but I didn’t want to make the song too vulgar. I know a lot of women, especially goth women, who get strange guys addressing them as Mistress, or wanting to be their slave – even if there’s nothing they’ve said or done to signify that they’re even into fetish/BDSM. Some have had open propositions for pictures of their feet. And of course, many of these guys also try to guilt trip, hence the line “It’s so hard for men like me, nice guys just want a chance”.  As if there’s anything ‘nice’ about propositioning a stranger.”

I find it hard to say whether I even wrote this song, or if the lyrics are just the contents of far too many inboxes.”

The digital single on Bandcamp includes two bonus “virtual B-side” tracks: ‘Hawk Tuah’, and a cover of ‘Chop Suey’ by System of a Down.

Hawk Tuah was a bit of fun that I didn’t know if I’d release. The problem with viral memes is they become old very quickly.  But given the person in question is currently living her best life getting paid big money for club and TV appearances, I’d say people are still interested. Gosh knows how many messages she’s had from ‘Please Reply’ guys.”

‘Chop Suey’ meanwhile continues 404 Error’s tradition of rendering nu-metal covers barely recognisable (albeit, arguably more intelligible than the originals): a pattern established with a rendition of Slipknot’s ‘Wait and Bleed’, included with the debut single ‘ETHAL’. And where ‘ETHAL’ featured a guest vocalist known as J.A.N.E., ‘Chop Suey’ features vocals by one MXVC.

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Metropolis Records – 7th June 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Oi, Nosnibor? Call yourself a goff? Well, yes… and no. Y’see, much as many people scoff at Andrew Eldritch insisting The Sisters of Mercy aren’t goth despite displaying so many of the trappings of goth, he does have a point, and one I’m willing to defend when it comes to my own musical preferences.

The Sisters, The Cure, Siouxsie, Bauhaus, bands I came to quite early in the formation of my musical tastes in my teens, are all largely considered exponents of ‘goth’, but were well-established long before the label existed. Tony Wilson said in an interview that there was something ‘gothic’ about Joy Division, and while they were contemporaries, and similarly dark, and – like the aforementioned acts – emerged from the post-punk scene, along with the likes of Alien Sex Fiend, The March Violets, The Danse Society, but somehow manage to avoid the goth tag. Ultimately, the whole thing was a media construct based largely on a false perception of a bunch of disparate acts who shared a fanbase. Just how much bollocks this was is evidenced by the fact the likes of All About Eve, New Model Army, and Fields of the Nephilim – again, bands who shared nothing but a fanbase, in real terms – came to be lobbed into the ‘goth’ bracket.

But then bands started to identify as ‘goth’ themselves, most likely as a way of pitching themselves in press releases, and things started to head south rapidly thereafter.

Having formed in 1981 and being signed to 4AD, home of The Cocteau Twins, and releasing their debut album in 1985 – the same year The Sisters released their seminal debut First and Last and Always – Clan of Xymox belong to the initial wave of proto-goth, in the same way X-Mal Deutschland do. Yet for some reason, they’ve bypassed me. Seventeen albums in, I’m perhaps a bit late to the party, and while I can’t claim to be fashionably late, it’s better late than never, right?

This does mean that I’m approaching Exodus with no benchmark in terms of their previous albums, and with the weight of recently-jettisoned preconceptions and prejudices. Perhaps not a strong standpoint for objectivity, but it’s worth getting these issues out of the way first.

It’s amusing to read how retrospective reviews of their debut criticised the fact it sounded cliché and dated, not least of all because of the synth sounds which dominate. What goes around comes around and vintage synths and drum machines, however tinny, fuzzy, basic, are all the rage once more, with people willing to pay crackers prices for the precise purpose of recreating those sounds.

Exodus sounds like an early-to-mid-eighties dark electro album, showcasing all of the elements of goth before it solidified, before the cliches became cliches. The drum machine programming is quintessentially mid-80s, a relentless disco stomp with a crisp snare cracking hard and high in the mix.

They slow things swiftly, with the brooding, moody ‘Fear for a World at War’ – a timely reflection on the state of humanity – landing as the second track. It’s moving, haunting, but drags the pace and mood down fast, samples and twinkling synths hovering and scrapping over a hesitant beat and reflective vocals.

‘The Afterglow’ combines chilly synths and fractal guitar chimes to forge a cinematic song. It’s unquestionably anthemic, and has the big feel of an album closer. Where can they possibly go from here? Well, by pressing on with more of the same… Much of Exodus is reflective, darkly dreamy, vaguely shoegazy, very Cocteau Twins – at least sonically, being altogether less whimsical in content. It’s undeniably a solid album, and one steeped in the kind of sadness and melancholy that’s quintessential brooding gothness. ‘X-Odus’ hits a driving techno goth sound that borders on industrial, but equally owes as much to The Sisterhood’s Gift, which is really the point at which ‘goth’ intersected with dark disco.

Eighteen albums in Exodus sounds predominantly like the work of a contemporary dreamwave / goth act plundering the old-school with some heavy dashes of late eighties Cure, and while many fans will be hard into it, to my ears, it’s good – really good – but much of its appeal is nostalgia and familiarity, and objectively, it’s just a shade predictable and template.

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33.3 – 24th July 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Since their inception and debut album Finding Beauty in Chaos in 2018, the project helmed by Human Drama and Gene Loves Jezebel guitarist Michael Ciravolo has presented a staggering array of collaborators and contributors. Not so much a band as an open music collective, they return with Dancing With Angels, which promises appearances by ‘luminaries from The Mission, The Bellwether Syndicate, Holy Wars, Kommunity FK, The Awakening & Strangelove.’ Indeed, Wayne Hussey has been a regular contributor, and he, and wife, Cynthia return this time around to appear on the dreamy, Cure-esque single cut ‘Diving for Pearls’, with chiming guitars and bulbous bass sound reminiscent of ‘Pictures of You’.

Each of the album’s eight atmospheric gothy post-punk hued songs features a different vocalist or vocalists, with duties shared by William Faith and Sarah Rose Faith of The Bellwether Syndicate on opener ‘Present Tense’, a cut that harks back to the sound of the alternative scene circa 1986, when The Mission were taking their first steps and Gene Loves Jezebel were at their commercial peak. Given Ciravolo’s other work, this isn’t entirely surprising – but what is welcome, and impressive, is the extent to which the sonic blueprint is expanded to incorporate a broad range of styles, stretching out to the shimmery shoegaze dream pop of ‘The Devil You Know’ at one end of the spectrum, and the brooding anthem that is ‘Echoes and the Angels’ via the crackling guitar-driven indie of ‘Kiss Me (Goodbye)’.

With its rippling piano and swooning vocals, courtesy of Cynthia Isabella of Lost Gems (and formerly of Silence in the Snow’, ‘Hollow’ is delicate and emotive, while ‘Holy Ground’ brings soaring lead guitars to a solid rockin’ tune. It may be because it’s sandwiched between ‘Hollow’ and the slow-burning closer, ‘Made of Rain’ (featuring Ashton Nyte making a fifth appearance with Beauty in Chaos), but it feels like the weakest of the songs here.

Whether or not Ciravolo wrote the songs with the singers in mind, or if they evolved around them once they were on board, the fact each guest brought their own lyrics means they feel like they’re in their natural environment, and each songs sounds like it belongs to them. The end result has something of a mixtape feel to it, while retaining that essential coherence.

Nevermore has the project’s moniker felt more apposite: conjured from a whirlwind, an effervescent creative froth of a diverse range of creative minds, Dancing With Angels stands as testament to the power of collaboration.

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Magic Wands is a dream pop duo originally formed in Nashville by guitarists / vocalists Chris and Dexy Valentine. Now based in Los Angeles, the group is known for its shimmering and dreamy sound, which incorporates elements of shoegaze, post-punk and goth.

Characterised by heavily-textured guitars, synth drones and ethereal vocals, these elements in combination produce music with an otherworldly atmosphere that has been widely praised for its euphoric quality, especially evident in live performances.

Dedicated to creating music that is both imaginative and emotionally engaging, Magic Wands have issued five studio albums to date, the most recent of which is Switch (2023). Its songs were also remixed by guest artists and released as Switched later in the year.

‘Hide’ is a brand new song. Check it here:

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Distortion Productions – 5th July 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Released to coincide with the start of their US tour to promote the album HEX, released in March, HEXPLAY offers up remixes of three tracks from the album, by artists including Leaether Strip and Red Lokust.

Remix albums and EPs do tend to be a bit of a mixed bag, and my cynical side says they’re an easy way of milking maximum product from the material an act has – and the fact that the Grendel remix of ‘Veridia’ already appeared as a bonus track on the digital version of HEX does little to dispel this notion with this release (the album contained seven new tracks including lead single ‘Witch Lit’ released the year before, expanded with three remixes, and there was previously a standalone Stabbing Westward remix of the title track).

There are two further mixes of ‘Veridia’ here. Of these, the Leaether Strip reworking which opens this set is the most radical, transforming the dark electrop of the original – which clocks in at just over two minutes – into a sprawling five-minute exploration of brooding esotericism, with a hint of Eurovision-friendly groove. Pushing the bass up in the mix, it’s darker and denser than the original, and adds new depths and dimensions. Placing it up front was a sound decision, as for my money, it’s the strongest track here.

In the hands of Third Realm, the contemplative mid-tempo ‘Raining Roses’ is transformed into a cinematic anthem, and it’s a triumphant reworking – not a huge stretch in terms of imagination, but it simply makes the song so much bigger.

SPANKTHENUN take ‘Witchlit’ in a darker, murkier direction, straddling stuttering techno and ambience. It’s quite a departure from the original, unexpectedly tense and claustrophobic, and if it lacks the magical, haunting nature of the original its quite brutal treatment is big on impact and shows the song in quite a different light.

The last couple of tracks are solid enough, but perhaps a shade predictable, and certainly lacking the impact or imagination of those which precede. This is what I mean when I say that remix releases are a mixed bag, but I’m equally aware that this is a question of taste, and some will likely prefer the versions I’m less enamoured with.

Here, the source material is strong, which definitely gives the remixers a head start, and while I’ll often find myself asking ‘why mess with perfection?’ credit is due on this occasion for offering versions which, if not improving on the originals, certainly bring something different and worthwhile.

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à La Carte Records – 23rd June 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Perfection is a thing so rare it’s practically mythological. And yet LA post-punk act appear to have achieved it with ‘Never Say Forever’. While reprints of their bio abound, evidence of a back catalogue or previous work is impossible to locate, so it does appear that this is their debut single, which makes it all the more remarkable.

‘Never Say Forever’ is pure vintage in every respect – stylistically, it captures the essence of 1981-85, and I have no shame in saying that I’m an absolute sucker for that era which saw post-punk give birth to goth and dark pop. Sonically, too, they’ve got it down. There’s a certain sound, something that comes not only from the production but from the equipment of the time. Technology was advancing apace – it was around this time that drum machines and synths became widely available – and while the last forty years have seen substantial further developments, I can’t help but feel that something has been lost. That crystal-clear digital fidelity we’ve become accustomed to lacks something, a certain soul, perhaps, but also the sonic haze that defined the sound of the early 80s was absolutely integral to the music itself, and while many contemporary acts have tried to emulate it, they’ve simply fallen short. Not so Mirror of Venus: ‘Never Say Forever’ sounds completely authentic, to the point that it sounds like an archive recording. How have they done it? I don’t know. Time travel, perhaps.

Promo and visuals have increasingly become key to success. People of a certain age, in particular – that would often be people my age (and above) – bemoan the advent of style over substance and how it’s all snazzy videos and shit now, while conveniently forgetting that this came to pass in the 80s. But of course, the difference between major-label 80s and independent acts 80s was immense, and this was perhaps the time when capitalism and money really changed the shape of things: the majors would chuck megabucks at the big acts, which led to the slickness and ubiquity of the like of Duran Duran (who I do happen to like) and the low-budget values of all of the bands who weren’t signed to the likes of EMI. The video which accompanies ‘Never Say Forever’ captures the vibe of the era, and how we view them now, also: once affecting slick but now looking faded, it’s a perfect recreation of the VHS era, the pre-digital age. And yes, when I say a ‘perfect’ recreation, I really do mean it.

Everything about ‘Never Say Forever’ feels like it’s been cracked out of a time capsule. But none of this counts for anything if the material isn’t up to scratch, and that’s where ‘Never Say Forever’ really shines. It’s crisp, it’s catchy, it’s moody, broody, hooky, and nothing short of sheer shimmering magnificence. In other words, perfect.

Will they ever match this moment again? One would hope so – of course. It makes you crave more, so much more. But whatever the future holds, with ‘Never Say Forever’, Mirror of Venus have achieved more than almost any band ever does. Perfection.

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Metropolis Records – 19th July 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Metropolis Records – 19th July 2024

Cut back to not so long ago – in real terms – and the prospect of a new album from The March Violets was simply not something you’d imagine. 1987/88: The Sisters of Mercy had broken through in a major (label) way with ‘This Corrosion’ and Floodland; The Mission’s ‘Tower of Strength’ almost reached the UK Top 10 before Children scaled the heights of number two in the album charts, and this was the commercial heyday of goth… and one-time peers, The March Violets were a footnote in the genre’s history, having gone pop and signed to a major, only to go nowhere far and call it a day. They were fondly remembered by those who did, and compilation The Botanic Verses documented their body of work in the early 90s, but… Rosie was busy doing poetry and the like and Si was hiding behind smog as Nurse to Dr Avalanche as part of The Sisters of Mercy’s touring crew.

Then, in 2007, twenty years after they vanished, the band reconvened for a show in Leeds at what was then still the Met. It was a glorious celebration, not only of The Violets and their career, but also the heritage of the Leeds scene, with The Chris Reed Unit representing one of the city’s most singular and longstanding acts, and Merciful Release stalwart James Ray presenting thee magnificently eccentric ambient dance grooves of 25 Men.

Health issues stalled things for a while, but miraculously, 2013 saw the eventual release of Made Glorious – which was in fact their debut album, since the three previous long-players had all been compilations (I’m including the US-only Electric Shades among these). And now, after further setbacks – notably Denbeigh’s departure from the band following a stroke, but also some not insignificant touring under their belts – they deliver album number two, Crocodile Promises a mere eleven years later.

No-one could, or should, expect a band who’ve been going for so long and undergone so many changes – both personnel and personal – to sound exactly the same as they did when they started out. And nor should anyone want a band to exist in a state of suspension or arrested development. Here’s where The March Violets are a rare thing: a band which has evolved, expanded, grown, but equally has never lost sight of their roots. As their Bandcamp bio summarises it neatly, ‘Original Post Punk Drum Machine Band From Leeds. Started at the Beginning, Imploded, Reborn for the 21st Century. Play Loud Play Purple.’ Yes, they’ve even retained their original slogan. And it still works, too.

Whereas Made Glorious was a sprawling beast of a release, comprising sixteen tracks – a double album, effectively, Crocodile Promises is a taut, succinct nine-song document.

Single release ‘Hammer the Last Nail’ kicks the album off in classic style with a snaking drum-machine groove and twangy gothy guitar interweaving behind Rosie’s sultry, vampy vocals.

Where Made Glorious felt a tad slick, Crocodile Promises returns to the pumping, gritty sound that made the band one of the greatest first-generation post-punk acts. ‘Bite the Hand’ is a tangle of metallic, trebly, chorus-hazed guitar against a thrumming bassline and pumping mechanised drum machine, and it’s got the hunger and edge they displayed back in ’83. It’s likely a coincidence that the title is a phrase which featured in a quote from Andrew Eldritch when commenting on the Violets’ departure from Merciful Release… right?

‘Virgin Sheep’ maintains the angular energy, and once again recaptures blistering force of their first iteration, calling to mind the frenzy of ‘Radiant Boys’. ‘Mortality’, the title track from the album-in-progress which was shelved on account of Denbeigh’s stroke is another classic Violets cut, and what becomes apparent while listening to Crocodile Promises is that feels natural, comfortable, not a struggling, forced effort to recreate the past. Of course, the timing is beneficial: the next generation of new music-makers are discovering grunge, post-punk, shoegaze, and goth, and suddenly, the bands who were the progenitors of these styles are finding new audiences, and instead of sounding dates, the styles feel fresh once more.

Of course, great songs are timeless, and great songs are a feature of Crocodile Promises. ‘Crocodile Teeth’ is perhaps more fractal dream pop than goth or post-punk, but it’s got that late-80s Siouxsie vibe that gives the dreaminess a serrated edge. Its inclusion brings balance and space to the album, too.

It would be wrong to say that The March Violets are quite the same band they were without Denbeigh’s snarling interjections, but it would equally be a mistake to criticise the current iteration on account of this. The March Violets are survivors – and a great band. Ever-present co-founder Tom Ashton continues to prove pivotal in defining their sound, and, equally, their attitude. As much as they were a part of that early 80s Leeds milieu, The Violets stood apart, and that slightly wonky, sharp-edged, skewed guitar was, and remains, integral. And moreover, Crocodile Promises is a great album. Its strength lies not only in its consistency, but also its energy and its atmosphere, both of which it brings in abundance. But best of all, this is a true return to form. There isn’t a dud cut here, and every song is up there with the singles up to ’86. It’s incredible that a band at this stage in their career could drop a definitive album – but that’s exactly what The March Violets have done.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Goths are the most knit-picking pedants and harshest critics of their favourite bands of any genre’s fans I know. Actually, that’s not quite true: fans of The Sisters of Mercy are the worst knit-picking pedants and harshest critics of their favourite bands. I preface this review with this observation as a Sisters fan first and foremost, and contestably as a goth second.

Y’see, most of the bands which emerged after that initial post-punk crop which included The Sisters, Siouxsie, The Cure, Bauhaus – disparate bands who have little in common sonically and stylistically beyond reverb, dyed hair, and studded belts – and sure, The March Violets, The Danse Society, UK Decay, and a handful of others, were toss. By the time ‘goth’ was formalised as a ‘genre’ it had gone to shit, mostly with every other band ripping off the guitar and bass for ‘Walk Away’ and diluting it to a pissweak rehash, and all too often with ghastly theatrical booming vocals. And they all started wearing waistcoats and frilly cuffs and appropriating ‘gothic’ imagery to boot. That was circa 86, by which time – that’s which time, not witch time – The Sisters and The Cure and Siouxsie had very much evolved, so we can probably as much blame The Mission for the start of the rather more naff second wave. By the 90s, derivative cack like Every New Dead Ghost was crawling out of the woodwork, amplifying the cliches on top of simply being laughably bad.

It so happens that Disjecta Membra have been going 30 years, emerging from that early 90s milieu of corny goth revivalism – presumably pining for 1985 and sobbing into their baggy sleeves when The Sisters went cock-rock with Vision Thing. This release is a career-spanning retrospective, which they’re giving away free on their Bandcamp. And this is the first I’ve heard of them.

I kinda wish it had stayed that way. It starts off with the single version of ‘Whakataurangi Ake’, which features Rob Thorne, and it’s a preposterous, pretentious semi-ambient new-age effort with over-the-top dramatic vocals. I mean, fair enough in that it draws on their New Zealand heritage, but it’s pretty obvious and cheesy as. And it’s all downhill from there.

‘Lilitu’ might actually be quite exciting if X-Mal Deutschland had never existed. But as it is, it might as well be a cover of ‘In Der Nacht.’ Talking of covers, there are a few here. And again, after The Sisters broke the ground of taking songs that didn’t obviously sit with the style – like ‘Jolene’, and disco faves ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme’, and Hot Chocolate’s ‘Emma’ and made it their schtick, every other goth band thereafter just had to toss in some quirky covers… and lo, we get a take on Boney M’s ‘Rasputin’ and covers of other goth bands, because they obviously add so much more. ‘Rasputin’ sounds like you’d imagine, of course: drum machine with a head-splitting snare and spindly guitars. It’s cack, but the worst thing is that it doesn’t really bring anything new and doesn’t even sound like it’s done vaguely ironically, meaning it’s neither cool nor funny.

And while we’re in the realms of cliche, what’s the obsession with marionettes in contemporary goth? ‘Antoinette Marionette’ is as obvious as it is lame as wordplay goes., and with its crashing snare and chilly synths and spindly guitars, the best that can be said for it is that it’s uptempo. I did kinda wish that ‘Skin Trade’ was a Duran Duran cover instead of the po-faced and predictable goth-by-numbers that it actually is.

Apparently, ‘Madeline! Madeline!’ and ‘Death by Discotheque’ are both good enough to warrant two versions on a thirteen-track compilation. They aren’t, and it suggests a lack of material of a quality to fill a single album over the course of thirty years. The latter, especially is a derivative disappointment, a stab at rambunctious goth-country in the vein of Fields of the Nephilim while attempting to create their own take on Suspiria’s ‘Allegedly, Dancefloor Tragedy’- one of the few decent songs to come out of the early 90s revival. This isn’t a patch on it, and just seems to think it’s amusing bashing cybergoths. I mean, they have a point, in that cybergoth was a ridiculous thing, but of all the audiences to alienate in their position.

The last track, ‘Walking in Light’ is quite interesting, marking a shift in tone towards droning guitar ambience, at least initially, but then it descends into a glam-infused rock stomp which turns out to be a cover anyway.

30 years, and this is the best they’ve got.

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Bin Liner records – 5th July 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

The band hailed by Louder Than War as ‘probably the Last Great Gothic Rock Band’ – Portsmouth based post-punk/goth band Torpedoes – return with their fourth album, Heaven’s Light Our Guide, six years after their previous outing, Black Museum (2018). To compensate for the time away, they’ve made it a twenty-track beast of a double-album, and when coupled with something of a transition in their sound towards something rather more keyboard-driven, it’s almost certainly their most ambitious release to date.

The album’s themes are pretty bleak, but no-one’s here for a party goth album, right? The press release is worth quoting for context: ‘Principal songwriter Ray (Razor) Fagan (Ex Red Letter Day) gives his take on the world we must all inhabit whether we like it or not. Lyrically the album focuses on largely dark themes from the destruction of the planet & corruption to bereavement and historic tragedies. Including a song inspired by a mass suicide in the town of Demmin, north of Berlin in May 1945. Over a thousand of Dremmin’s inhabitants, mostly women and children elected to commit suicide rather than face the advancing Russian troops….’

Hopefully, this sets the context, rather than torpedoing the mood – pun intended, of course.

Heaven’s Light Our Guide is by no means a concept album, or a work which focuses specifically on any one tone or theme, which would be difficult to sustain and likely difficult to listen to over such a duration: instead, the album is in many ways a pick ‘n’ mix from the smorgasbord of goth, in the way that The Cure’s Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me offers contrasting elements of light and dark. These contrasts do make for a work that feels like it pulls in different directions at times – not nearly as schizophrenic as Kiss Me, but certainly the product of a band on a voyage of discovery.

‘Somekindaheaven’ kicks things off with a quintessentially gothy bass groove, that foot-to-the-floor, four-four thudding bass, and while it’s draped in cold synths, the guitars rip in just shy of a couple of minutes into its expansive six. There are some nagging gothy guitar breaks, too, and it presents balance between introspective and anthemic.

‘End of the World Party’ is far from a knees-up, but it’s a dreamy, wistful Curesque slice of jangling, indie which definitely sits at the poppier end of the goth spectrum. It’s fitting, inasmuch as it was The Cure who really broadened the spectrum of what is generally recognised as ‘goth’ – a term I really do struggle with despite principally identifying as such myself. Then, as many of the songs on here are more 90s grunge than goth, as ‘Idiot’ evidences perfectly.

‘Blue Sky (In the Rain)’ sits somewhere between Dinosaur Jr and REM, and in its execution ends up sounding not unlike later Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. None of this is a criticism: it’s a solid tune, and Heaven’s Light Our Guide has plenty of them.

There is a strong leaning towards that mid-late 80s alternative sound as showcased by the likes of The Rose of Avalanche and IRS-era Salvation. The fact that the latter toured extensively with The Alarm does give some indication of the more commercial sound which had evolved by this time, and hints at the tone of Heaven’s Light Our Guide. In the main, this is a highly accessible set of songs. But then they chuck in some really hefty darker-hued cuts along the way: ‘Made of Stone’ comes on like The Mission in their early years, but heavier and more fiery, and it’s by no means the only stomper in this vein here. The grungy ‘Your Democracy’ certainly brings the riffs on one of the album’s most blatantly political songs, which goes a bit Metallica, too.

The title track is different again, a sweeping post-rock instrumental sweep that really mellows things down, and it’s clear that Torpedoes really want to demonstrate their range and musical skills here. Takings its title from a novel by Dostoyevsky, ‘Notes from the Underground’ is another gritty slice of sociopolitical critique, which contrasts with the altogether folkier acoustic-based ‘Fear of Human Design’.

Despite its length, Heaven’s Light Our Guide manages to hold the attention: it’s varied and interesting enough to do so, but not so diverse as to feel unfocussed or messy. Perhaps an even greater feat is that it doesn’t feel like there are any filler tracks or any which it would have been beneficial to cut.

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22nd March 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Everyone has a different way of processing, everyone’s cognition operates differently. It’s all a matter of experience and perception. The broader one’s experience, and also one’s exploration of art – in all media, be it books, music, visual art – the broader the network of intertext and references available. Formative experiences and interactions are also a significant factor in the way we come to shape and comprehend our world. And so it s that the moment I encounter the words ‘Black Maria’, my mind immediately leaps to ‘Afterhours’ by The Sisters of Mercy – my first encounter with the term, long before I would understand that it was a term for a police van. Attrition’s latest release certainly doesn’t elicit images of dark vehicles, but does hint at the seedy backstreet scenes that the Sisters song brings to mind, with its sense of disconnection, of being outside yourself, .the paranoid twitch of sleep deprivation

The album’s brief intro track, ‘The Promise’ is a murky ambient piece with hushed spoken-word vocals which is build a mood, a sense of dark atmosphere and foreboding. This intro track thins has really become a vogue in recent years, to the point that it’s becoming predictable and even frustrating to be presented with an atmospheric opening piece which probably isn’t particularly representative of the album it prefaces.

In the case of The Black Maria, it’s a fair primer for the wildly varied, even cacophonous blend of musicality which follows. ‘The Great Derailer’ brings operatic vocals and some bold technoindustrial grooves, before ‘The Switch’ gives us some techno-heavy goth with strong hints of Twitch-era Ministry woven into the mix. But once again, against the busy backdrop that alludes to the likes of PIG and KMFDM, there are ethereal moans and wails which drape themselves hauntingly. I’ve loosely reminded of some of the contributions Gitane DeMone made to Christian Death around the time of Ashes, or maybe Jarboe on Swans’ Children of God, but this is somehow different, and if anything, more difficult to assimilate.

Attrition bring a vast array of styles to the table for a start. ‘The Pillar II’ is exemplary: a low industrial throb brings a heavy tension, an unsettling uncertainty, which manifests as a discomfiture in the lower regions of the gut. But the wailing wordless vocals evoke tortured souls, wandering in purgatory. There are tense strings swelling and holding a tight grip, you find your chest tightening and it’s hard to swallow for this clench of tension. It evokes physical response: I feel my jaw clench and my breathing growing more laboured as the track builds layers of sound: there’s a hum that tortures the ears, and when it falls away, the sensation is strange, empty.

Music box melancholy prefaces more ultra-tense violins on ‘The Alibi’, which really takes a turn for the disturbing. The dual vocals grate against one another, dark sinister, deranged, almost schizophrenic in their whispers. The layers are busy and there are serpentine instrumental intrusions amidst the strolling piano and skittering strings and the wild cacophony of backing vocals: the effect is absolutely dizzying. The title track draws the album to a close with warping, time-bending synth dissonance and pulsating bass which contrasts with operatic quailing providing the backdrop to a growled, menacing spoken word vocal – and then it goes large near the end, with industrial-strength percussion cutting through the melee.

‘Spooky’ feels like such a weak, tame adjective in the main, but it’s the best I’ve got when it comes to summarising the otherworldly discomfit of the experience that is The Black Maria. But throughout The Black Maria, Attrition channel all of the dissociation and disconnection, and I’d challenge anyone to listen to this and keep their feet completely on the ground.

AA

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