Posts Tagged ‘New Wave’

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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Christopher Nosnibor

Forty-five years on from the release of their debut album, The Crack, The Ruts – or Ruts DC as they subsequently became – as still going, and perhaps unexpectedly, they’ve been more prolific in the second half of their career than the first.

Having released two Electracoustic albums – stripped back versions of material from their back catalogue, they’re back on the road with this format, too. The trio seated in a line on the stage befits a band whose members are in their late sixties / early seventies. They’re done being ‘cool’ or staying ‘punk’: “punk’s dead”, Segs shrugs at one point during tonight’s set. It’s striking just how honest and open they are during the lengthy intros and meandering anecdotes which seem to spring spontaneously, often without punchlines or clear endings. These are off-the-cuff, unrehearsed, down the pub type chats, which provide some real insight into the workings of the band and its members. Unpretentious, grounded, it’s a joy to feel this kind of intimacy with a band of such longstanding who truly qualify – and it’s not a word I use often – as legends.

They’re a band at ease with one another and the audience, Ruffy particularly happy to be back in his home town and regaling us with a lengthy tale about his early life, his father, and shoplifting out of necessity.

Not being able to get out so much lately, I have to pick my nights out carefully and strategically, and I had been in two minds about this one, for a number of reasons. But within minutes, it became apparent that coming down had been the right decision. Y’see, music can reach parts that practically nothing else can. Once comes to associate songs, bands, albums, with people, places, life experiences. They become indelibly connected, for better or worse. And The Ruts are a band who carry substantial emotional, reflective weight for me on a personal level. Of course, this is about me rather than the band, but this is a contemplation on how we engage with music and how songs and bands, become the soundtrack to our lives, and it’s something we only really realise in hindsight. And I feel that sharing the details of this complex and intimate relationship with a band is part of a dialogue we need to open up.

I was around thirteen or fourteen when I began hanging round the second-hand record shop where I would subsequently become the Saturday / holiday staff. The owner was – to me, being fifteen years my senior – an old punk, and he introduced me to a shedload of bands, and would air-bass around the shop to ‘In a Rut’, a song he would also cover with his band. This song – indubitably one of THE definitive punk singles – would become an anthem to me in my life, a song I always play to remind myself to get my shit together when times are tough. If punk has a solid link with nihilism, ‘In a Rut’ provides a counterpoint, as a rare positive kick up the arse. It’s a song I play when I need to remind myself that I need to get my shit together. It must surely be one of the greatest songs of all time. And what a debut! And that was even before ‘Babylon’s Burning’…

The first time I met my (late) wife’s dad – who died in 2003 at the age of 50 – he was blasting The Ruts and Rage Against the Machine on his car stereo, and I knew immediately we’d get on well. And we did. He was a grumpy fucker who hated anything establishment, and had great taste in music.

And so The Ruts and Ruts DC are a band who run a thread through my life. I find it hard to hear them without a pang of sadness, but ultimately, they’re an uplifting experience, and this is so, so true of tonight’s show.

‘Music Must Destroy’ makes for a strong opener and provides an opening for a not-quite anecdote about number-one fan Henry Rollins (another hero of mine and my wife’s, we got to see The Rollins and numerous spoken word performances, including one which included an expansive tale of his obsession with The Ruts and how he came to front the band at their reunion fundraiser for guitarist Paul Fox in 2007), who provided additional vocals to this, the title track of their 2016 album. It provides an early reminder of the fact that they’re more than merely a heritage band, and that they’ve always been, and continue to be, political.

‘West One’ and ‘Love in Vain’ land early, and the range and quality of the material stands out a mile. The set spans punk, reggae, rockabilly, anthems… and they have songs that mean something, too.

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One thing that sets Ruts DC’s acoustic(ish) sets apart isn’t that the lead guitar has some pedals and tweaks and that it’s not a straightforward acoustic strum, but the fact the arrangements rightly bring the details to the fore. Listen to The Crack and it’s apparent that the basslines are special. And paired down, you can really hear everything that’s going on. Their material is so much more than the lumpen three-chord thud of regular pub-rock derivative punk. They switch slickly into dub mode, with echoed rimshots and booming heavy bass, and the sound – and musicianship – is outstanding.

‘Something That I Said’ arrives as the penultimate song of set one, before closing with a new song, ‘Bound in Blood’ that’s a strong new wave cut. And suddenly, with the introduction of an electric guitar, it’s louder, too.

The second set is more electric, but still minimal in terms of arrangement, and stripped back: ‘Dope for Guns’ shows the song’s solid structure. It’s a rapturous experience to hear them powering through ‘Staring at the Rude Boys’ and ‘Babylon’s Burning’ towards the end of the set, and then to hear them segue ‘In a Rut’ with a full-lunged rampant chorus of Neil Young’s ‘Rockin’ in the Free World’ was truly rapturous. Again, there’s a personal element here: a song I associate with my wife, and a song she in turn inherited from her dad, I found myself shedding a tear at hearing a great song well-played. It wasn’t just a token gesture to enhance and pad the set: they meant it and felt the power of the sentiment. And right now, we need to cling to that. These are dark and fucked-up times.

They ramped things up to slam in a fully electric, fully punk rendition of ‘Criminal Mind’ to draw the curtain on the night. And what a night. And what a band.

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While they do still thrive on their early material, and do it justice, they have so much more to offer, too, and significantly, they’re not attempting to recreate the experience of the late 1970s with some sad old punk nostalgia trip. They’re clearly happy onstage – that is to say, loving the fact they’re up there, still going, and playing these songs. They’ve every reason to be: tonight, they deliver solid gold.

‘Pagan Synth’ duo, ESOTERIK has just unveiled their new single, ‘Mentor’ from the forthcoming EP, Archetypes.

For the next installment of the EP, ESOTERIK explores the insight and experience the ‘Mentor’ has to offer. Get lost in the hypnotic groove but heed the advice of the Mentor for it’s the end of suffering. It’s a beacon in the darkness calling you from the illusive world of form. It’s a voice that’s behind the incessant stream of thoughts; a gentle nudge with a firm but helping hand. The choice has always been yours all along. Will you be a listening ear, or will you flounder in the chaos?

On the upcoming EP Archetypes, the band examines the tropes that have weaved a thread across societies for centuries. “It’s such an interesting topic and really highlights the power of language whether written or passed down via word of mouth. The legends hold a commonality that span through time and culture. Before the world was connected by technology, these stories held the experiences and wisdom for generations to come. Whether they are steeped in symbolism or ritual, the lessons are still infused and if sensational that only ensures the survival beyond our limited life spans.”

Check ‘Mentor’ here:

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12th July 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

As genre crossovers go, Post-Punk/Alt Hip Hop is quite a rare one. Perhaps not as radical or as extreme as the kind of crossovers with alternative and metal bands and hip-hop acts that took place on the groundbreaking Judgement Night soundtrack in the early 90s, but at this point in time, where pretty much anything goes, this is unusual. Actually, I’d like to step back from that for a moment. Not so long ago, it felt as if anything went, that postmodernism had truly reached its peak and you could have grindcore with a kazoo and not be too surprised. More recently, while pockets of weirdness are strongly entrenched – as the recent Guardian article on Nerdcore, which managed to mention Petrol Hoers and BxLxOxBxBxY, both vehicles for beardy, ferret-keeping, pant-wearing York legend Dan Buckley (disclosure – Noisenibor performed a one-off collaboration with him in his guise as Danny Carnage, which was everything you’d expect) – things seems to have become more siloed, more set, more fixed, when it comes to genre parameters. Fluidity and crossovers remain, but wild invention seems to have given way to something of a return to convention.

‘Imagine Beck meets Sleaford Mods, meets Slowthai’ the bio says. Only, listening to this, you don’t have to imagine.

What’s noteworthy about these touchstones is that two are very white, and two are very British, the British acts both being overtly political, while all three draw on elements of hip-hop in their work. None of this is to denigrate anything about Oscar Mic or ‘Sun Star’, and nor is it a criticism to comment that it’s a hip-hop tune which is overtly white, as delivered by a pale guy with a vaguely gingery moustache. It’s a true testament to multiculturalism and artistic cross-pollination, and what’s more, ‘Sun Star’ boasts some truly sinister bass frequencies which strike way low and hit hard like subsonic torpedoes beneath the shuffling beat that clatters away nonchalantly all the way. Toss in some Beastie Boys and you’re getting a sense of where this is at.

Then there’s the really melodic indie break, and the thing has something of a quirk / arty / studenty vibe, while the video bursts with experimental oddness. And when you piece it all together… it’s gloriously mismatched and off-kilter. And we should celebrate its non-conformity.

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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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Arriving more than three decades after his first solo album and almost 20 years since his groundbreaking group Telex delivered their final message, Belgian electro-pop musician Michel Moers is finally making a comeback with As Is, his brand new album. To celebrate its imminent release, the synth man has invited iconic vocalist Claudia Brücken from the similarly revitalised Propaganda (now xPropaganda) to guest on its first single, ‘Microwaves’. A 50% electro-pop, 50% new wave anthem, it will delight fans of Ladytron as well as Telex classics such as ‘Moskow Discow’.

“Claudia has a great voice that you recognise from the very first note,” says Moers. “I was thrilled to get the opportunity to work with her and was determined to place her vocal upfront in this song.”

Check ‘Microwaves’ here:

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Michel Moers will release As Is in mid-April. Coming 33 years after his solo debut, Fishing Le Kiss, the long-awaited record features ten tracks that showcase Moers’ wisdom and artistic reflection as he offers a blend of thoughtful, electronic music infused with surrealism in his own unique style. It includes contributions from xPropaganda singer Claudia Brücken, who adds her distinctive Teutonic touch to ‘Microwaves’, plus Moers’ compatriot DAAN (Daan Stuyven), whose deep, expressive voice is utilised to full effect on ‘Back To Then’.

Containing songs that have been developed over several years, the album has an intimate, diary-like quality, reminiscent in part of the compositions of Erik Satie. With highlights that include the stridently uptempo ‘Potentially (Love-Hate)’ and ‘Pixels’, plus the lyrically unsettling ‘New Friend’, the album actually opens with an updated version of ‘Les Gens Sont Affligeants’ (People Are Disappointing) from Moers’ debut. It resonates more than ever in today’s individualistic society.

As Is represents a triumphant return for Moers, blending past influences with contemporary sounds and themes, and stands as a testament to his enduring creativity and adaptability in a continually evolving music landscape.

Moers has spent the last three decades working as an architect and photographer while continuing to make music. Involved in the remastering of the Telex back catalogue that was reissued to great acclaim on Mute Records in 2023, this also served to reinvigorate his skills and contributed to the creation of As Is. Belgium’s first electronic band, Telex were influential pioneers, appearing on Top Of The Pops in 1979 and representing their nation at the Eurovision Song Contest in 1980.

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13th February 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Another day, the organic evolution of another obscure splinter-genre or a genre cooked up by the music press, or, indeed a band themselves. Given the ever-expanding void in the space where the music press used to exist, that particular scenario is increasingly unlikely, meaning genre demarcations tend to now originate by word of mouth among fans, or from bands. And much as there’s a heavy cringe element to the way in which the music press historically created genres, from goth to shoegaze and Britpop, alongside a whole bunch which failed to ignite, like Romo and The New Wave of New Wave. Sometimes, trying to build a pigeonhole slips into the domain of trying too hard, and more often than not, genre labels simply serve as shortcuts which bypass the requirement to engage in meaningful dialogue as to what an act is actually doing, what they really sound like,

And so the arrival of ‘Long Divide’ by ‘Seattle-based ‘turbowave’ pioneers, Dual Analog serves as an educational piece. They pitch themselves as ‘combining New Wave and Heavy Metal into a brand new genre.’

There’s nothing wrong with ‘Long Divide’, but it doesn’t sound especially metal or new wave, carrying most of the trappings of 80s electropop – although image-wise, there’s a whole heap of 80s hair-rock influence going on, with bandanas and studs all in the mix. And hair. Lots and lots of hair.

‘Long Divide’ isn’t really the sound of bandanas and studs and hair, and is more Depeche Mode circa Songs of Faith and Devotion with some guitars played lowed but mixed low, meaning the synths dominate the sound. The vocals register in that same baritone region of Dave Gahan and a whole host of post punk / goth bands, but there’s something about the delivery – level, tone, pitch, I’m not sure – which hovers on the cusp of uncomfortable… but as the song progresses, it seems to slot together rather better. And then they whip out a big old guitar solo near the end and boom, you’ve got you hair rock fix.

Time was I’d have wrapped up a review with a pithy summation., but this feels increasingly forced and corny, and at the same time, presenting a verdict feels little different to casting oneself into the mould of a star-rating – it’s arbitrary and lazy in equal measure. As much as ascribing a genre is a short-cut, so is declaring an album a 7/10; it’s a box-ticking exercise that appeases the lowest common denominator. A hedge-betting 6 or 7 out of 10 is the coward’s way of saying you’re being polite and sitting on the fence. Whereas I’m ok with saying this is… ok, so-so, middling to me but likely to find a solid fanbase.

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25th January 2024

With Band of Susans, active between 1986 and 1996, Robert Poss curved an arc from the New York noise scene towards more of a shoegaze sound. With releases on Blast First and Mute, and featuring a pre-Helmet Page Hamilton on second album, Love Agenda, not to mention a reputation for eardrum-shatteringly loud live performances, the band unquestionably achieved more in terms of influence and cult cred than commercial success (something their final album, Here Comes Success (1995) seemed to acknowledge in its title). But what qualifies as success? Capitalist culture and media tell us that success is a career, promotion, cash, holidays, cruises, bug house big car. But that’s because these are the status symbols capitalism tells us we should aspire to. How about having enough to be ok, a home you like and feel comfortable in, having friends, knowing yourself and being comfortable in your own skin, and having the freedom to do things which give you pleasure? It’s a question of values: what do you value more, time, or money? Status, or the satisfaction of being true to yourself?

There seems to have been a fair bit made of fellow BoS alumni Karen Hagloff’s return to music making in recent years, but not so much about Robert Poss’ sustained output since the band called it a day. But then again, Poss has spent a career being somewhat overlooked and vastly underrated. Both his songwriting and style of playing is quite distinctive and unusual – quirky seems a reasonable adjective, and is certainly not a criticism. The notes on bandcamp note that ‘The release is dedicated to composer/filmmaker/photographer Phill Niblock, a long-time mentor, colleague and friend.’ The timing of this certainly renders this dedication particularly poignant, and also highlights the way in which exponents of avant-gardism feed off one another and evolve one another’s ideas in different directions.

The Niblock connection certainly sheds additional light on Poss’ approach to composition and sound, favouring drones and repetition over rigid verse/chorus structures and progression, and Drones, Songs and Fairy Dust does very much contain, as the title suggests, a miscellany of bits and pieces, ranging from exploratory wanderings to fully-formed songs using conventional ‘rock’ format of guitars, bass, and drums – and on some, there are even vocals, notably the punchy post-punk cut ‘Your Adversary’, which marks a change of style with its murky production and blustery drum machine backing.

The first of these, ‘Secrets, Chapter and Verse’ is a title which could easily be on a Band of Susans release and the song carries that Band of Susans vibe – jangly indie but played loud – and I mean LOUD, with strolling bass running back and forth and up and down beneath the layers of guitar, the vocals low in the mix and serving primarily functional capacity – sonic placeholders.

‘Out of the Fairy Dust’ combines jangling indie and ambient drone and in many respects does carry echoes of ‘Here Comes Success’ – but also Love of Life era Swans – at least until about halfway through where it takes a sudden turn into deeper folk territory. It’s quite a contrast with the deep, ultra-droney sonorous ambience of ‘Foghorn Lullaby’.

Like the epic solo workout that is ‘Hagstrom Fragment’, which comes on like some legs akimbo 90s rock, ‘Skibbereen Drive’ lunges into rock mode, and follows the chord sequence of ‘Flood II’ from The Sister’s of Mercy’s Floodland – and sounds very like it, with its cold synths and crisp drum machine, but without the acoustic guitar detail and lead guitar line. It’s a real contrast to the epic dronescape of ‘Into the Fairy Dust’, on which the drums are a million miles behind the drone as they clatter and roll away, onwards, ever onwards, but also almost entirely submerged in the mix. Elsewhere, with its snarling synth grind, ‘S Romp’ sounds like Suicide doing dirty disco, and ‘Trem 23’ – well, it takes us back to the 23 enigma.

Drones, Songs and Fairy Dust showcases a remarkable diversity of styles, and it’s neither as dry nor as dark as all that, with ‘Imaginary Music On Hold’ presenting a most whimsical feel. As a collection, it never fails to be interesting, or enjoyable, and showcases Poss’ eclecticism and range, and there’s pleasure to be had from listening to a collection of work by an artist who never feels constrained or compelled to confirm to a given genre or mode. It’s something that seems to trouble many people, not least of all labels and critics, that an artist’s creations are based on the pursuit of creative endeavour and interest rather than assigning themselves a category by which they must live. The flipside of this is that it may not feel particularly like an album it its own right, but more like a collection of demos and ideas – and just as the title summarises the contents as three separate elements – Drones, Songs and Fairy Dust – so it feels like it contains the seeds of three separate and distinct projects – a droney one, an indie one, and a dark rock-orientated one. It would be exciting to witness those three projects realised, but what we have here, regardless of future intent, is a document of forward-facing music-making and an artist whose sole priority is doing his own thing. This is, ultimately, the ambition for any artist: to create without concern for commercial matters. And Drones, Songs and Fairy Dust is an exemplary product of creative freedom.

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The members of MISSILES are no new kids on the block. Coming from punk, rock, and metal, as well as surf and rather diverse backgrounds, they all answered to the call of their good friend Gabriel Forslund – sincerely interested in doing something new and exciting together.

The band’s trajectory began with a 7" single released by the Swedish label Fetish in 2016. Initially viewed as a project, MISSILES have organically evolved into a fully dedicated band with a laser-guided focus, causing shock waves in the underground with their jet-fuel genre-clash. Combining abandoned sounds with new inventions on Weaponize Tomorrow, MISSILES promises to both pat you on the head and stab you in the back, delivering a unique blend of post-punk with a touch of goth rock.

MISSILES claim their debut is a one-of-a-kind album, truly a loved bastard. Weaponize Tomorrow will appeal to those who enjoyed the certain “je ne sais quoi” found in the New Wave movement, a line of thought that is liberating to hear today when artists go to the bank with a genre description. MISSILES couldn’t be bothered; it’s rock, it’s pop, its punk, it’s je ne sais quoi.

Hard to pin down, but undeniable to freak out to, Weaponize Tomorrow is a high yield blast wave that will leave MISSILES hot on the tongues of those looking for a sudden and dramatic, incendiary kick. A gut smashing future shock that will resonate across diverse musical landscapes, Weaponize Tomorrow will be the perfect atomic cocktail for fans of Wipers, Dead Moon, The Birthday Party, The Gun Club and even modern iconoclasts Molchat Doma and Beastmilk.

Their inaugural album, Weaponize Tomorrow is out on May 10, 2024, under the banner of Svart Records. Witness the album’s opening track ‘Dead Summer Moon’ here:

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Missiles promotion 1 color.

Credit: Johan Snell

New Heavy Sounds – 19th January 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Cold in Berlin’s latest project, The Wounds looks to see the band scaling new heights of ambition, being a multi-record work consisting of an EP, The Body is the Wound, and an album, due in 2024, and promises ‘a musical vade mecum of what is to come in a fresh era for the band.’

I was gripped by Cold in Berlin from day one, on the release of their White Horse EP, a tense and intense burst of spiky goth which was razor-sharp and raging, bringing a zippy electro element to jagged guitars and a vocal that drew clear influence from Siouxsie and Skeletal Family. I must have conveyed my excitement pretty well, since my review is quoted on the BandCamp for the release, some twelve years on. Their debut album, Give Me Walls, still stands as a latter-day goth / post-punk classic.

Over the course of three further albums, the band have further defined and refined their style, becoming doomier, darker, heavier, but still with a clear commitment to concise and focused songwriting, proving that doom doesn’t have to be all about formless seven-minute dirges. I’m a fan of formless seven-minute dirges, but variety is the spice of life, and Cold in Berlin are one of those rare acts who’ve succeeded in creating their own niche in not one, but two crowded genre spaces.

Two of the EP’s four tracks have already been released as digital singles, both accompanied by visually striking videos. It so happens they’re the first two tracks on the EP, and they’ve been released in the order they appear. But the rest of the EP is absolutely on a par.

As the band write, ‘The lyrical themes dance around sex, murder, suicide and broken dreams, brought together in loose storytelling that allows listeners to add their own experiences and bring personal meaning.’ The words only begin to emerge after a few listens, after you’ve shaken your head clear from the initial impact. It’s a proper punch in the face, a full-force kick in the eye. The Body is the Wound packs four songs of equal quality back to back, and is as strong a document of the band’s work that they’ve laid down to date.

‘Dream One’ is a towering monolith which combines pulverising power chords with stark, icy vocals, and the effect is spine-tingling. Maya’s vocals have never sounded more powerful, more commanding than here. Then again, ‘Spotlight’, which slows the pace and amplifies the weight matches it, while emphasising the band’s doom leanings. It’s some heavy shit, alright, and hits with a punishing intensity.

The cuts which haven’t yet been unveiled are every bit as strong as those which have. ‘When Did You See Her Last’ twists stark synths and gothy guitars behind a chilling set of lyrics – the most spine-chilling I’ve encountered since ‘Shooting Dennis Hopper Shooting’ by The Twilight Sad.

To describe the final cut, ‘Found Out’, as ‘poppy’ might be slightly misleading, but it’s a question of context. There’s some stealthy picked reverby guitar that’s pure 1985 goth that laces the verses with some fine texture before the thunderous chorus blasts in on a tidal wave of distortion. And in some ways, it very much recalls their earlier works, only thicker, denser, more driving, more powerful on the riff front, and they deliver all-out epic compressed into less than five and a half minutes.

Not only is there not one remotely lesser track on this EP, but it’s consistent and utterly relentless from beginning to end: no breathers, no ballads, no instrumental interludes. In short, The Body is the Wound is an utter blinder and absolutely blistering, and if the album is half as good, it’ll still be their best yet.

AA

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