Honeybadger’s bio describes the Brighton trio as ‘spiky’ purveyors of ‘gutter psychedelia/grunge’, and ‘Cold Wind’ certainly delivers on that. Fast and gritty, lo-fi and fuzzed out, the guitars are all the grunge – but then the break brings a full-on tremelo-happy wig-out that’s out of this world!
But if the song is carried by an energy that invites comparisons with early Arctic Monkeys, the bassline runs away in a completely different direction, with one of those wild grooves that runs here, there, and everywhere: Luca – age just twenty-one – is possessed of magic fingers. Or perhaps he’s just possessed. Either way, these guys pack in so much dynamic and raw talent into three-and-a-half minutes that it’s dizzying, and it’s a proper rush.
The Hull scene has been simmering nicely for some time, and it’s a great advertisement for deprivation and off-the-track locations being melting posts for dark underground creativity.
We may have bid farewell to Chambers and Cannibal Animal, but Hull continues to throw up a wealth of dark and noisy bands, and while Low Hummer have been making some serious headway, along with BDRMM, there’s no shortage of acts emerging behind them, with Besdit making rapid progress recently.
The name is a fair summary. Anyone who as ever endured bedsit living will relate to the claustrophobic sensation of confined living. Bedsits -appropriately – carry connotations of meagreness, of low-budget gloom, and Bedsit really do convey that sense of claustrophobia.
The four-piece’s latest offering, ‘Dead Bands’, is the lead and title track from their upcoming EP, which follows up on 2020’s Pocket Toy EP. It’s a step up from the lo-fi grunge metal production of its predecessor, and sees the band consolidated on that blueprint, leaping from rough diamonds ready for development to something lean and mean, and dense and taut and truly outstanding.
It’s not just the production: the composition, the playing, the vocals, the lot – they’ve not sold out and gone super-slick by any means, but ‘Dead Bands’ is a dark, dense amalgamation of post-punk and grunge, and while it may be a celebration of bands gone before, it sounds pretty bleak in its mid-tempo, bass-driven way, paired with baritone vocals that border on the gothic. It’s a combination of the sound of 1985 and the sound of 1993 and it’s dark and its heavy, but it’s magnificently realised with some killer riffage and some blistering, blustery guitars squall and scream their way to the end.
There’s no joy to be found here, but it’s a glorious exercise in dark nihilism that has to be my single of the year so far.
Aural Aggro regulars Sleep Kicks make a welcome return with their latest offering, ‘Words in Vain’. With a rumbling bassline and busy, effects-heavy guitars that soar tremulously, the opening bars of ‘Words in Vain’ smashes together The Fall’s take on ‘Jerusalem’ and Editors’ ‘Bullets’ – cathedrals of sound underpinned by an earthy thud, and this is one of those expansive, gut-pulling new-wave revival tunes in the vein of the early 2000s – think Interpol, Editors, White Lies – and it’s taut and evocative. There’s an emotional depth to the vocals, but there’s more than that: everything feels tightly packed and tense. And I can’t deny that I’m a sucker for that.
What is it about the post-punk template that endures? Why do these goth-tinged tunes have so much bite? It’s not simply nostalgia: hell, I was hardly born when this sound emerged in the late 70s and early 80s, and suspect that the turn of the millennium crop – the revivalists – were inspired by listening to their parents’ collections. And what goes around comes around, meaning the new bands emerging, in their twenties, have likely discovered the noughties revivalists via their own parents. But why do these cycles emerge?
I can’t help but suspect thee socio-political landscape has a fair bit to do with it. Rocketing inflation – not to mention strikes, droughts, and floods – mean parallels to the 70s are being drawn in the media, and for obvious and justified reasons. Social and economic troughs bring frustration, despondency, despair – and music which reflects that mood.
As troughs go, this is a deep one; we’re looking as escalating war and nuclear threat – same as in the early 80s – insane inflation and mass deprivation – with extreme climate, flooding, etc., etc, on top. People can’t afford to exist, let alone to live. And when things hit the bottom, art invariably rises to reflect the mood and present the voice of the zeitgeist.
Back in November, we showcased Death Pill’s ‘Расцарапаю Ебало’ – because it’s a killer tune. And now, ahead of the release of their eponymous debut album, out next month, the Ukrainian all-female trio have served up a second single, ‘Miss Revolt.’
There are three things which are particularly striking about it.
The first is context: the press release explains how ‘The band’s album was recorded before the war started but the majority of it was mixed while the invasion was going on and the band are also now all spread out with Mariana staying in Kyiv, while the other two are in Spain in Australia.’ This doesn’t just show a dogged determination on their part, but also highlights just how media coverage and representations of the war in Ukraine fail to convey so much of the reality of life – and how despite it all, life goes on. In the face of such adversity, and now geographical dispersement, it may seem to some that pressing on with releasing music is insane. But it makes perfect sense. Creativity for some is the only way to cling on to life and sanity. And the album is set for release on the 24th February 2023, perhaps fittingly a year to the day that Russia invaded Ukraine.
The second is content. Yes, it was recorded prior to the invasion, but ‘Miss Revolt’ is nevertheless an angry song about social rejection and the difficulties of peer groups and growing up. It’s real and it’s relatable and while I’m past that stage in my life – mostly now – thee pain of those formative years never truly leaves you, and as such, it speaks to adolescents present and past.
The third is that it’s a blistering guitar-driven punk racket absolutely popping with energy and ferocity. It’s loud, it’s abrasive, and it’s all over in under a minute and a half. It’s a raw-throated blast of roaring fury with churning guitars and drumming so fast as to cause whiplash. Hard and heavy, it’s fast, fiery, ferocious, and absolutely killer.
In my youth, I considered the likes of The Wonder Stuff and The Levellers to be ‘Indie Folk’, being, y’know, bands that were equal parts indie and folk, but apparently, I was mistaken, as the ever-reliable Wikipedia informs me that the former were al alternative rock band and the latter are folk rock. You live and learn, eh?
Indie folk, then, is Eliot Smith, Kristin Hersh, The Magnetic Fields, and Marc Todd. It’s a good job I did my research before making any judgement of Marc Todd, and I suppose there are hints of Magnetic Fields about ‘I Got Life’. It is, at least to my ear, more psychedelic than folk, but it’s an easy-going little tune, an easy-strumming, rolling melody with positive lyrics. There’s nothing demanding about it, but then, I guess for many, life’s demanding enough.
These bloody goths, still thinking it’s 1985 and all wanting to be The Sisters of Mercy, in their black garb, wide-brimmed hats, shades, mooning around in churches and graveyards, still churning out tunes with spindly guitar with loads of chorus and flange, with deep, growly vocals crawling over thumping drum machines and four-quare basslines that rip off Craig Adams. They’re all so bloody po-faced, and even when they’re being humorous or ironic they deliver it in such a straight way it’s impossible to tell if they are actually being humorous or ironic or just naff.
And that’s part of the enduring appeal of bands like Cathedral In Flames. You know what you’re going to get, within a fairly narrow margin. It wasn’t really until the 90s wave of goth emerged that this was really a thing, so many of the contemporary goth bands with an ‘old-school’ sound more as if they’re channelling the likes of Suspiria and Children on Stun than The Sister or Siouxsie, and since most can’t register the same low-end as Andrew Eldritch, end up sounding more Cark McCoy for the most part.
Genre history and pedantry aside, ‘Not Another Vampire Song’ (somewhat ironic and humorous) follows the release of their cover of Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds’ ‘The Weeping Song’ (not ironic or humorous), and ‘The lyrics poke fun at typical gothic rock themes as well as stories of closed rock clubs and churches’:
“The song is based on a memory of the nineties, when we used to travel (not only to play) around Bohemia, and after a night of drinking we would go the next morning to the only place that was open (on Saturday or Sunday) at that time, so to church.”
They’ve got John Fryer (Fields of The Nephilim, Peter Murphy, Nine Inch Nails) on board to produce this new material, and credit where it’s due, it suits it well. It’s a solid tune, too, and with its grainy, vintage-looking promo video, it does look and sound for all the world like one of those tracks from obscure 80s also- rans that crop up on compilations of The Sisters and The Mission like that started doing the rounds in about 87 or 88. It’s about as far as you can get from revolutionary, but in terms of delivering what they set out to achieve, it’s Mission accomplished.
You’ll always find black metallers and pagan neofolkers in the woods. I don’t mean that whenever I go for a walk in woods near me that I happen upon people in cloaks and corpse paint lumbering around clutching instruments, but how often do you see a video where they’re exploring scenes of urban squalor or even indoors? Do you think any of them would last a winter out there – or even a night? Could they construct a shelter, do you think? Could they light a fire, or spear some wild creature to feed themselves, in those threads?
I’d wager not, but Canadian trio Hem Netjer seem more the type to venture into the woods to commune with nature than to live as part of it, and the video captures them meditative contemplative, cross-legged on a large rock.
The last single from their forthcoming debut album, The Song Of Trees, scheduled for release at the end of February 2023, ‘Elemental Cry’ is dark yet somehow celebratory, with dense synths swirling about a thumping tribal beat and overlaid with tense strings and a soaring vocal performance.
The atmosphere is thick and murky, the production favouring the lower and mid-ranged that give the track an earthy feel, and it’s bold and cinematic and it doesn’t really matter if some of it feels a shade cliché with its lyrics about death and trees and moths, because it’s a ‘big’ tune in every way, not just the fact it’s almost six minutes long, and RavenRissy’s vocals are more operatic than folk, and are outstanding and send a shiver down the spine.
A strong song with a strong message, ‘Elemental Cry’ is pretty powerful work that reaches the primal depths of the psyche and speaks to senses long lost in the name of ‘progress’.
Bournemouth-based four-piece alt-rock unit Solcura pack a lot into three and a half minutes on ‘Keep It Close’, which is their first new music since their debut album, Serotonin released in August 2021.
It begins with some soft, hazy, warm-toned, vaguely psychedelic backwards guitar stuff and some airy vocals before slamming in with a grungy riff and some hard minor key power chords.
They’re open in their drawing on 90s grunge as their primary influence, and I’ll be the last person to criticise for that. As much as these bleak times draw comparisons to the conditions of the late 70s and early 80s that spawned post-punk, we’re also living in conditions that are giving rise to another ‘lost’ generation, struggling to find their place and their identity. Grunge emerged as the voice of a generation for a very good reason about thirty years ago, and while bands have drawn clear influence from that spell in the early 90s when big crunching guitars were all the rage, it feels more than ever like the time is right for a proper grunge revival
If it initially comes on like a cross between Alice in Chains, Soundgarden and Bivouac in its melodic, accessible grunge stylings, there’s a sudden switch that takes a turn for the metal and things get heavier – but without going for the guttural vocal move that’s been persistently popular since the advent of nu-metal.
‘Keep It Close’ sounds and feels like three or four songs in one, and yet they meld the different segments together so seamlessly that it absolutely works – it’s a proper gut-pulling kick in the ribs that’s got a rare energy, intelligent songwriting and raw power, and it kicks some serious ass.
Time marches on, and here we are almost midway through December still catching up with November releases, this time with Polish ‘dark rock’ duo Shrine Of Reflection.
There’s a great temptation to split hairs and that argue that surely the dark rock tag is goths pretending not to be goth, but that would be unjust, as this six-and-a-half-minute sonic adventure is more post-rock than anything, but there are also hints of prog and bleak neofolk vibes emanating from the murky tones, where a sparse, spindly lead line drifts over a slow, deliberate thunder-like beat that plods away like a heavy heart, before it blossoms into colour at the midpoint into an expansive, cinematic sweep.
The blurbage summarises that “‘Child Of The World’ is a song inspired by the movie, Interstellar. It’s about the misery of a human being who is trapped on planet Earth and who is unable to discover the truth of the universe’s nature despite the fact of being its child. All this person can do is just simply stare at the sky and dream.”
That sense of entrapment is relatable, but more than this, the vocals become increasingly cracked and desperate as the song progresses, before the slow-building crescendo takes over, finally tapering off into muffled samples that leave you looking into the emptiness, and wondering.
Following on from ‘For Horror Eats the Light’, Fvnerals bring more darkness for December with ‘Ashen Era’ from the forthcoming album Let the Earth Be Silent. And truly, it’s a monster, a sprawling seven-and-a-half-minute beast that behind dark, murky, atmospheric in a haunting, ethereal ambient sort of a way, before crushingly heavy guitars grind out colossal drone over thunderous percussion.
If it feels like the end of the world, that’s probably because that’s the intention. The band explain the song and is place in the album’s development thus: “Inspired by the deeply destructive nature and harmful presence of our species, ‘Ashen Era’ was the first song that we wrote for this album, which also established its foundation", singer and bass player Tiffany Ström reveals. “In our writing process, we used dissonant orchestral instrumentation coupled with eerie vocals to ritualistically build up from a chant of despair to a state of acceptance. It is moving from the overwhelming longing for annihilation as well as the anxiety and guilt of our existence, to finding beauty and peace in our own impending end.”
Pic: Anja Bergman
This anxiety is something that’s been increasingly difficult to ignore, and it’s not just me and the sense of impending apocalypse that I’ve had for half my life: everything seems to be accelerating exponentially – climate change, consumption, population growth. The last few weeks have seen myriad news pieces on people complaining that Christmas markets have never been so busy and that traffic gridlock is suddenly no longer a rush hour or bank holiday thing, but from eight in the morning to nine at night.
In the wake of the pandemic, and with floods and droughts and fuel shortages and spiralling prices as demand for everything exceeds demand, as I’ve written previously, it feels as if we’re not only heading towards but already living in all of the dystopian futures featured in books and movies. That more writers and musicians are articulating these same feelings is cold comfort.
If one thing is becoming clear now, it’s that we have left it too late, and have almost certainly sealed our own fate, and now it seems that all we can do is make peace with this, and search for the ‘beauty and peace in our own impending end.’ It isn’t easy, if it’s even achievable, accelerating toward the abyss. But with ‘Ashen Era’, Fvnerals provide the perfect soundtrack.
Aural Aggravation 