Posts Tagged ‘Pulled Apart by Horses’

Leeds trio Magick Mountain have shared new single ‘The Shitty Beatles (Live)’, the first to be heard from ‘Come Stay With Me’, a fundraising compilation by and for Leeds based artists.

Made up of Lins Wilson (Grammatics), Tom Hudson (Pulled Apart By Horses),  and Nestor Matthews (Sky Larkin / Menace Beach), Magick Mountain are a trio who embody the long running collaborative spirit that has made the city home to some of the UK’s finest new DIY bands and, thanks to a number of ferocious live performances, have built a strong reputation as one of the most exciting new bands from the West Yorkshire city.

New single ‘The Shitty Beatles (Live)’ captures the band at their noisy and riotous best. The two-minute whirlwind of frantic garage rock was recorded live last year in Mabgate Bleach, a small independent arts space in a decommissioned textile mill just outside Leeds city centre. Just one of a number of treasured small venues in the city currently crowdfunding to try and survive through a difficult time. The band want to highlight these campaigns with their live single explains singer and guitarist.

Lins Wilson: I think this track is probably as punk as Magick Mountain gets. A 2 min ankle biter that’s over before you can cry ‘Help!’. Usually the last track of our set – it’s like a snarling ‘full stop’ that’s been released from Iggy Pop’s clenched butt cheeks. This track was recorded live at one of our favourite Leeds DIY venues, Mabgate Bleach whilst supporting Aussie fuzz queens, Stonefield and we think it has a sort of feral charm about it. We’re massively missing live music right now, I think this is the longest we’ve ever been without any of us playing or going to a show. It’s great that people are finding new ways of connecting and performing online, but absolutely nothing can beat a live gig, where you truly feel the force of music.”

‘The Shitty Beatles’ will be released on ‘Come Stay With Me’, a collection of 13 new songs from bands and artists across Leeds including Talkboy, Dialect, Team Picture, Van Houten, Dead Naked Hippies and more. Set for release in July on eco-vinyl, all profits from Come Stay With Me will be shared between the contributing artists.

While the vinyl won’t be arriving until July, Come Play With Me have launched a new crowd funder for the compilation where it can be pre-ordered now.

Launching in 2015, Come Play With Me is a record label, promoter, magazine and development organisation based in Leeds working to support artists in the region and releasing a series of 7” record splits, compilations, magazines and more.

Listen to ‘The Shitty Beatles (Live)’ here:

Order the compilation here.

MM

Credit: Jessica Ciantar

22nd April 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

When members of Pulled Apart By Horses and God Damn are bigging up your band, you’ve got to be doing something right – if you’re on the market for something gnarly, guitar-led and tripping on the wild side, that is.

‘Rack and Ruin’ picks up where their last EP, Son of the Flies left off, with ‘Lizardbrain’, which features on the latter now appearing on the full-length. It’s everything you’d expect from a band who have a track called ‘Fuck Off Brian Eno’: don’t come looking for anything mellow or ambient or even remotely melodic here. But if you’re after a sonic kick in the nuts, that’s a different matter altogether. Welcome…

A buzzsaw guitar slews in against a low-slung, thunderous bass groove to cut an angular racket on the album’s opener, ‘Pound of Flesh’. Tense, and not without a dash of mania and a cocksure sleaze, it grinds and yelps and chops and before you know it, they’re assailing your cranium with the squalid ‘Say What You Want’. ‘Machinery’, the sole track culled from their Bad Jack & Other Stories is less of a standout and more of a rime contributor to the album’s density and the relentlessness of the assault.

The heavily rhythmic ‘No Way Back’ and ‘Snake Oil’ with its epic trudging beat slow the pace but increase the force of the attack amidst desert guitars and squalling feedback. Elsewhere, ‘The Priest’ is a collision of old-school goth and blistering noise rock. It’s not pretty. It isn’t supposed to be.

The production’s suitably murky, and there are hints of the 90s underground which seems to be re-emerging now, about ‘Rack and Ruin’. Forgotten cult acts like Headcleaner and Jacob’s Mouse collide with elements of Shellac and Gallon Drunk to create a swaggering, big-bollocked mess of noise (as is fitting for an album housed in a sleeve with more cocks and balls than you can count), and as such, they stand alongside contemporaries like Blacklisters.

It isn’t all noise as such – there are some skewed pop moments lurking beneath the sludge – but every track teeters gleefully on the brink of maniacal catastrophe. With guitars set to stun and their sensibilities attuned to the back-catalogue of labels like Sub Pop and Touch ‘n’ Go, Rack and Ruin is nasty indeed. It’s also fucking belting.

Nasty Little Lonely - Rack

 

Nasty Little Lonely on Bandcamp

Hide & Seek Records – 18th March 2016

Christopher Nosnibor

I’ve been less than complimentary about Department M in the past. They’re a band I feel I ought to like, and, truth be told, really want to like. I very much get – and like – so many of their reference points and influences. I like their sound, overall, and in terms of the component parts. I kinda think their highly stylised image – specifically that of Owen Brinley – is cool, in a way. That doesn’t mean I don’t think the mac and headphones getup is a tad affected – it’s a chronic affectation, in fact, but there’s a sense that Brinley’s homage to the 80s is sincere and very closely studied in its affection.

But for all that, they’ve always felt somehow lacking, the music too controlled, the look too much of a contrivance, the sounds too preoccupied with recreating the vintage. Style, yes, but substance?

As is standard for department M (stylised with a lower case ‘d’ in the latest round of promo), Deep Control has a lot going in its favour, at least on paper, featuring as it does Owen Brinley (ex-Grammatics) and Tommy Davidson (Pulled Apart By Horses), while having been produced by long-term friend James Kenosha, who has a staggering resumé. Again, that’s a fact. It was also mastered by Tom Woodhead, formerly of Forward Russia, at Hippocratic studios, and it looks good. A decent album cover matters, and this works, although it is an unashamed reconstruction of many things 80s.

And I would love to froth at the mouth with enthusiasm for this release, or at least be forced to reconsider my stance. I actually wanted to be wrong, to declare the error of my previous perceptions of the band. But sadly, Deep Control only reinforces everything I find troublesome with department M.

But while their eponymous debut showed clear promise and a bit of edge, Deep Control is the sound of a band slipping into its comfort zone. The album’s tile and many of the tracks imply antagonism and frustration which simply don’t translate in the delivery.

It’s ironic, given the circumstances of the album’s creation. As the press release explains, ‘the lyrical undertow of the album is a discourse on coming to terms with disorders such as Anxiety and OCD whilst living in the sometimes harsh modern worlds of work and play in a Northern city. After years spent in the spin of these facets, there’s the essence of time escaping at speed – you can only sit back and watch the years whirl by.’ Again, I can relate: every landmark birthday I approach is prefaced by abject terror in the face of the ageing process, and I have a handle on stress, anxiety, panic. Despite all of this, Deep Control fails to speak to me.

The album as a whole simply lacks bite. It feels, and sounds, simply too insular to communicate any kind of message. And yet there’s no real sense of inner turmoil either.

The songs are wet, as is their delivery. There’s an eternal threat of breaking out, cutting loose, giving it some nuts, that remains unfulfilled. There’s a moment where the final bars of ‘Bad Formulae’ turn dark, and a shuddering cybergoth groove kicks in that suggests that – it being only the second track – things are going to take a turn for the intense on album number two.

But sadly, it never happens: the Depeche Mode (I very much doubt the band’s initials could be accidental) meets Howard Jones stylings lack any real meat, or sense of direction, and it transpired that Deep Control is tame in comparison to its predecessor.

‘Stress Class’ sounds like an outtake from Black Celebration, and there’s no doubt it’s better than the stuff they played before the start and during the break in the stress class I attended, but then I never dug Norah Jones or Coldplay.

Brinley’s vocals strive toward soul, but lack any guts or character – which pretty much sums up Deep Control as a product.

 

 

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