Bearsuit Records – 6th November 2026
Christopher Nosnibor
The Gurney Shakes is Harold Nono’s first new music since the Faro EP in April 2025. It’s not only a welcome return which was more than worth the wait, but with seven tracks, represents a solid piece of work. The three-stripe / segmented collage cover art which accompanies it is in keeping with the house style for Bearsuit Records, with the same style of layout having been used for several of Eamon the Destroyer’s releases, which in turn shares stylistic similarities to covers for Andrei Rikichi’s releases on the label. And when it comes to Bearsuit, you certainly can judge a record by its cover, at least to an extent, in that there’s a strange Surrealist thread common to everything they’ve put out since their inception almost twenty years ago. It’s a strong track record, and an admirable commitment to ultra-niche experimental pop music.
This new set of compositions favours comparatively brief pieces – most are some way under three minutes in duration – and explores some considerably darker territory than previous works. This isn’t some sudden shift: Faro stands as a bridge between the softer piano-led pieces on We’re Almost Home and the heavier, more sombre sound of The Gurney Shakes.
We start with the title track, and it’s an ominous work of dark ambience: thick, abstract drones hang like fog. Faint traces of sounds like mournful strings and ethereal voices – sometimes delicate, haunting, at others more evocative of ancient and esoteric firelit blood rituals drift through and add layers to conjure an eerie atmosphere. In context of the title – and perhaps I’ve been reading and watching too much horror again lately – I find a burred, hazy image swimming through my mind’s eye, a scene where we see patients – maimed, wounded, and traumatised – being wheeled through dimly-lit corridors with flickering lights – a hospital now abandoned after some horrific historical event.
As a title, ‘Recut, Reframed, Resumed, Undone’ draws the attention to the cinematic nature of the album: as a composition, it’s a reminder of the more experimental, collaging aspects of Nono’s approach, with fractured fragments of piano , and finally, ‘These Fins Don’t Fit’, where skipping pipe notes and a loudly quacking duck – a sound which always makes me think of laughter, as if the bird is laughing at you as you pass it – takes us back to ‘classic’ Nono with a brief snippet of absurdist collage and jarring cut-ups which are vaguely reminiscent of Foetus in the mid-80s. As such, the first three tracks here lead us – in reverse chronology – through the three main stages of Nono’s stylistic evolution.
The second half of the EP errs more toward the spacious and atmospheric, with ‘Banjo Dimmer Switch’ standing out not because of its Surreal title, but because of its downtempo pace and vibe and understated trip-hop vibes. It makes you feel wistful and vaguely sad without being able to really understand. The crackle of static and soft-focus tones create an air of nostalgia, and the strings are sad, but… the effect is greater than simply the specifics. Or perhaps I’m just feeling sensitive and sad.
The final track, ‘Sing So Long to Singing’ manifests as a slow drift with a pulsating undercurrent, and is almost eight minutes in duration. Over the lugubrious strings and slow, plodding piano, extraneous sound trickles forth… and suddenly, in the final minute, the noise stops, and we are left with something incredibly graceful, almost neoclassical, and again absolutely worthy of inclusion on a film score.
Harold Nono’s evolution continues to fascinate. There are still flashes of the wildness and the weirdness of his earlier recordings, but this more serious, ponderous, and reflective phase showcases a much more sophisticated approach to composition, and brings with it a greater emotional depth and complexity.
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