Posts Tagged ‘Single Review’

Rare Vitamin Records – 20th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

The Battery Farm have had a truly extraordinary twelve months: the Manchester foursome released their debut album last November, and have been gigging hard off the back of it, with some pretty high-profile shows along the way. And this is a band that’s driven – not so much by ambition or aspirations of stardom, but by passion. These guys are purveyors of political, pissed off, authentic punk – not haircuts and threads, but sweaty, full-throttle 110% all the way. Benjamin Corry makes for a powerful presence, vocally, visually, and in the interviews he’s given. He may appear a shade scary and borderline deranged, but comes across as affable, articulate, and genuine.

The band exists to rail against the shitness of the world we find ourselves in, and perhaps buoyed by the reception of the album and recent shows, their twelfth single is more amped-up and fiery than ever. ‘House of Pain’ is three minutes of riff-driven fury that blasts in at a hundred miles an hour with a message that needs to be heard. Arguably, that message could be boiled down to the barest bones of ‘fuck this bullshit’, but the expanded articulation is that it addresses ‘the shame imposed on all of us who are scraping by in an ongoing and worsening cost of greed crisis. You do what you have to to survive, and how dare anyone in a position of privilege look down their nose.’

It needs to be heard because, as I was reading only earlier today online in The Guardian, ‘The number of people experiencing destitution in the UK has more than doubled in the last five years – up from 1.55 million in 2017. One million children are now living in destitute homes – a staggering increase of 186% in half a decade.’ That every single supermarket now has a place to donate to food banks speaks for itself; yet our government, whose job it is to protect society’s most vulnerable, simply dispense advice that if you can’t afford a cheese sandwich, to forgo the cheese, and who seem to think that broadband and mobile phones are luxury items the poor should do without, despite the fact it’s impossible to apply for jobs or even maintain benefits without them. The privately-educated governing elite are in the pockets of the likes of the oil industry, and they absolutely fucking hate the poor, and they want you to hate the poor too. And their hateful campaigning and sloganeering is depressingly effective: how else do you explain working-class people voting Conservative? It’s bewildering to think that people in impoverished towns in the north of England would vote for these cunts who’d happily bulldoze every council estate in the country, that they might think that the likes of Bozo Johnson and Richboi Sunak give even a flake of shit about them, let alone represent them – but the increasingly right-wing Tories appeal to the mentality of the impoverished and disenfranchised by apportioning the blame for the state of everything on ‘illegal’ immigrants, who come over here and sponge all the benefits. Stop the boats! Right. Then what?

The Battery Farm are spot on when they describe the current situation in the UK as a ‘cost of greed’ crisis. Everyone who’s already in the money is making on this: banks, oil and energy companies, supermarkets… any increases in costs are being passed directly to customers, and then some, all to protect profits, all to pass on to shareholders, all to give CEOs even bigger bonuses. The injustice, the social division is at a point where something has to give. Sadly, it seems that something is the lives of those at the bottom of the heap.

The Battery Farm can’t change the world, but they can provide a voice and an outlet to the anger at this injustice, and flipside ‘A Time of Peace’ is another full-throttle gritty blast of punk fury, reminiscent of the sound of ‘79/’80 – I’m thinking grimy roar of The Anti-Nowhere League and fellow Mancunians Slaughter and the Dogs by way of references here.

At the time of writing this, four days after release (I’ve been slack / drowning in dealing with everyday life stuff (delete as appropriate); physical copies on 7”, CD, and cassette have sold out, which is a huge achievement and shows just how they’ve built a committed following through a combination of belting tunes and sheer hard slog. This is their strongest work to date.

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7th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

West Midlands post-punk trio , The Glass House Museum, comprising Joe and Jon Cummings (both vocals and guitar) and Lee Meadows (programming and bass), have been releasing music since 2017, but ‘The Committee’ is their first new material since the mini-album Artifacts in 2020.

It begins with some dark atmospheric grumbling, some gloomy bell chimes and squawks, presumably the menacing cries of the vultures mentioned in the song’s chorus, and also featured on the cover art. And, naturally, the collective noun for vultures is a committee. Despite this literal referencing and representation, it’s apparent that the song’s meaning is truly somewhat rather more figurative: ‘Tread careful, stranger,’ is the caution which starts the song’s lyrics.

With the sequenced rhythm section, they hold the solid core groove tight, giving it that quintessential goth vibe.

Over the years, I’ve witnessed many detractors – and even fans – ask why bands like The Sisters of Mercy don’t get a drummer. There are numerous reasons why they don’t, won’t, and never would, but the main one is that the drum machine is a defining feature of the sound of that particular strain of post punk which came out of Leeds in the early 80s. That hard, relentless beat, paired with a bass that followed it, bam-bam-bam-bam, overlayed with guitars, edged with a metallic clang and shrouded in chorus and reverb created a perfect tension that isn’t really like anything else – and this is why it’s provided the blueprint for so many bands over the last forty years.

But to dismiss it as being ‘derivative’ would be to miss the point: this is about heritage and lineage, and also there’s a certain degree of knowingness to making references that are, in some ways, I suppose, tribal in their function. If you know, you know, and you’re one of ‘us’. And so it is that the lettering on the cover is lifted from Siousxie and the Banshees’ A Kiss in the Dreamhouse, offers another referential insight into the band’s stylistic touchstones. The devil really is in the details.

The vocals aren’t of the spiky punkier aspect of post-punk, eschewing the edgy styles of Siouxsie and Skeletal Family’s Anne-Marie Hurst and if anything, are more in the vein of Julianne Reagan in her rockier moments.

But the most significant thing here is that the ingredients are well-blended and folded in together around a decent tune with some sharp energy and a solid chorus, and none of it feels formulaic or ripped off. In short, ‘The Committee’ is in the ‘classic’ style, but with a strong identity of its own.

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20th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s all been happening in the Eville camp since the release of their second single, ‘Messy’, back in June – and now they’ve been gathering advance airplay in spades for the follow-up, ‘Leech’. Again, produced by Jamie Sellers (best known for his work with the likes of Ed

Sheeran and Elton John), this offering sees them really step things up a few notches.

Whereas ‘Messy’ was grungy and melodic, ‘Leech’ is all fiery fury: the rapidfire clattering drumming and roaring guitars – and vocal howl – which kickstarts the song harks back to the point around the turn of the millennium, when Pitchshifter joined forces with Prodigy live guitarist Jim Davies to create a dance/industrial metal fusion and saw them find favour with the nu-metal crowd – and although their preferred reference points are more in the vein of Slipknot, for all the emotional rawness of the lyrics, there’s still a strong melodic edge to the vocals.

Eva Sheldrake has range, and a knack for delivering a hook, not to mention a monster riff, and in the company of Milo Hemsley (drums) and Billy Finneran (bass), the Brighton ‘brat-metal’ trio are a powerful unit. And as much as I’ve been digging the vogue for duos lately – a setup often born as much out of necessity as choice – and hearing how far it’s possible to push the most minimal format it’s possible to have and still be a band – there is something so classic about a trio. It’s because while maintaining all of the component parts, there has to be absolute focus, there’s no room for a weak element like an iffy rhythm guitarist, and no-one has anywhere to hide, but everyone has to deliver optimally. And when they do, the sum is greater than the parts.

“I hope listeners take as much from it as I did by relating through experience with inner

conflict and toxic situations that are hard to escape,” says Eva.

She certainly channels it, and hard, here. Eville are clearly no suckers, and ‘Leech’ is a killer tune that says this is a band with much promise.

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Blaggers Records – 19th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

True revolution will come when the workers own the means of production. This is something that’s emerged in music not through an uprising, but a thoroughly screwed-up state of affairs, but one that’s very much a result of a capital-driven model. Major labels, and a fair few indies, don’t exist for the artists: they exist for themselves, for their execs, for the machine, the mechanism which enables them to gouge maximum profit for themselves, the shareholders, the middlemen, hell, anyone in the chain. And, depressingly it looks like even Bandcamp could be going this way before long. Capitalism doesn’t give a shit about art: it cares only about money, and art is simply another commodity, provided it’s got mass appeal. And who generates the profit? The artist, of course. The model is the same in any capitalist structure: without call centre and admin staff, multinational corporations would simply have no business: even banks need staff to manage the money being poured into them (although retail customers get the least service because they may be many, but they’re just your average pleb on the street, so fuck them and their wanting local branches and stuff that eat into the profit margins). But the staff who essentially generate the wealth are at the bottom of the pile with the worst pay and the worst conditions.

Sure, some artists get rich, but how many Coldplays and Ed Sheerans are there in the scheme of things? And there has been a shift since the turn of the millennium. Massive advances – or any advance at all in many cases – are a thing of the past. But labels have always been behind the time, and the concept of A&R is a longstanding joke in that labels aren’t interested in finding the next movement as riding on the coattails of whatever’s breaking in order to milk it.

This latest offering from Kill, The Icon! marks something of a stylistic shift, at least superficially: less aggro and overtly confrontational, it’s also less guitar-orientated, built around a simple and unchanging synth loop. Nagging, earwormy, irritating… the repetition does become somewhat numbing after a while, but by the end off its three-and-a-half minute duration, you start to consider playing it again anyway.

Talking to me about the single, Nishant admitted ‘It’s really different and I expect will be polarizing in terms of content.’ He’s right on both counts, in that it’s not only a departure, but also likely to alienate a few fans and critics. But this is to the good: as I’ve written before, and will likely do so again in the future, you can’t please all of the people all of the time, and nor should you aim to do so. If you do, you’re Oasis or Ed Shearan. Punk is an attitude, not a style per se, punk is creating the music and art you believe in and not giving a fuck about the reception. Kill, The Icon! are punk, and this stylistic detour doesn’t see them budge an inch in their message or tame their fury for a second. Yes, true to their credo, Kill, The Icon are calling out institutional racism and general bullshit in society, and here, specifically, the music industry:

Average White Band / For the average white fan / Making average white music for the average white man

Joshi explains: “Mumford and Sons were the archetypal Average White Band. They had the son of a near-billionaire in their midst. And they made a career out of denying their privilege. They were bankrolled from the very start, and so they had a precious resource that’s not afforded to other bands: time. Most artists are told to play more shows, work harder, network harder. But that’s a huge lie that’s perpetuated by the music industry… Everyone involved in the music industry assures us that diversity, inclusion and equality are priorities – it’s written as much on the website of every festival, booking agent, manager, and record label. But the reality is an utter lie. We’re not all running the same race.”

One benefit of being a truly independent act is that the artistic control is not only retained by the artist, so is the scheduling. That means the pokes in ‘Average White Band’ are still contemporary, as Joshi calls it out:

“Once a band has been elevated, It’s fair to ask what they do with their new-found power: are they maintaining the status quo, or are they actively seeking change to make the music industry more equitable? The reality is that the music industry has been fantastic at improving diversity in indie music, but only to the extent that it champions female-led bands who approximate western beauty standards.”

Sitting on your chaise longue / Writing all your new songs / About cliches of cliches of cliches of cliches

It’s not a matter of sour grapes here: there’s no way Kill, The Icon! are jealous, or would want to be in the position of Wet Leg. But given the same elevated platform, Kill, The Icon! would be telling it like it is and making sure their message had maximum reach. But political bands don’t tend to get maximum reach, especially when they’re from minority backgrounds. Benefits are perhaps the most ‘real’ band with a broader reach right now – Sleaford Mods are simply too obvious are more about commentary than promoting change – but while they’re white, they’re too working class to be embraced beyond a certain demographic. In keeping it real, they’re not likely to get much radio airplay – or earn huge radio royalties – any time soon.

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Inverted Grim-Mill Recordings – 6th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Yes Grasshopper’s ‘Ghost Dog Pagoda’ is the lead single from the forthcoming album of the same name.

Grasshopper? Yes, grasshopper. Not cricket. While on a recent day trip to Berwick Upon Tweed, my daughter was asking about the sounds of the crickets or grasshoppers, and I had to confess I was unaware of the difference, and had to look up the main visual difference is the length of their antennae, and the main biological difference is how they make that distinctive sound.

While I’m still unsure if we were hearing crickets or grasshoppers, it’s clear that despite being in the north-east, we weren’t hearing Yes Grasshopper, as their most informative biography clarifies: ‘Grasshoppers are among what is possibly the most ancient living group of chewing herbivorous insects, dating back to the early Triassic period around 250 million years ago. Those species that make easily heard noises usually do so by rubbing a row of pegs on the hind legs against the forewings, this is known as stridulation. Yes grasshopper formed in 2020 and make noises with a guitar and some drums. Emerging from England’s unforgiving northern coast, this dynamic duo present a wholly unique take on noise rock, with crushing riffs, white water rhythmic twists and barking intertwined vocals making way for heinously catchy hooks.’

As titles go, ‘Ghost Dog Pagoda’ it’s simultaneously visual and abstract. As songs go, it’s absolutely mighty.

The single starts out with a tight picked guitarline, which nags away, before the bass and drums crash in, hard and with the kind of density that feels like a body blow. There’s a moment of pullback to build the tension further before POW!! Fuck!

This isn’t the sound of innocuous insects: it’s the sound of ground-razing devastation. The distorted vocals are way low in the mix, only adding to the impression of monster volume – those smallish gigs where the backline and guitars are so fucking loud the in-house PA simply cannot compete and so the vocals are lost but somehow cut through and the thrill is just beyond words because the sheer sonic impact is beyond words… If you’ve ever experienced this, you will know, and this is the blistering force of ‘Ghost Dog Pagoda’. If you haven’t experienced it, then you need to get out and witness more small-venue live music.

Back to the single, it’s a mess of noise, a full-tilt, all-out sonic assault. The hooks really come in the respite, where the nagging guitar returns, because the rest… it’s a brain-shredding attack. The vocals aren’t only low in the mix, but they’re a frenzied howl blanketed in distortion, and the song’s structure is a long way from a neat verse/chorus alternation. Fuck, it’s impossible to follow, and I have no idea what’s going on from one second to the next. But herein lies its sheer brilliance: ‘Ghost Dog Pagoda’ isn’t pretty, and makes no concession to commercialism or accessibility – not a single one. It hits you, hard, with a wall of abrasive noise, and it’s a beast alright.

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Forever Underdogs – 22nd September 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

I Got quite excited by Hull’s Bedsit on hearing their last release. Perhaps the summary in their bio explains it, more or less, in pitching the band as being of interest to fans of Basement, Nothing, Yuck, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, and in next to no time, alongside my raving about them, they’ve come from nowhere (ok, Hull isn’t quite nowhere, but it works as a narrative) to airplay from Steve Lamaq and applause from Louder than War.

The joy of F.I.D.O. lies not only in its being a great tune, but from its gloriously lo-fi, crunchy sound. A twisty riff played almost tentatively by way of an intro is suddenly smacked along in a tidal wave of rhythm, bass, drums and it recreates the buzzing vibe of Dinosaur Jr on ‘Freak Scene’ or ‘Girl from Mars’ by Ash. It buzzes, it vibrates.

They’re pretty strident in their messaging here, and this is certainly no feel-good tune, as much as it’s a nihilistic howl that goes against the grain, and is certainly not a call of solidarity with their peers and contemporaries, It’s a shake, a slap, a sneer of derision that says ‘get a fucking grip!’

“F.I.D.O. is for the countless artists who labour to perfect their work, manifest their passions and achieve success, only to be left screaming into the void for years on end. It’s about the ridiculousness of dreams and the temptation of surrender. We’re made fools by our expectations of the music industry and the life of an artist, coaxed by visions of giants from a bygone era. The iconic rockstar is dead, or worse yet, duplicated posthumously in a vapid monetary mockery. It seems impossible nowadays for an independent artist to ever get heard, break out, be seen. When art is entwined with identity, emptiness can feel like death.

Why do we even try? Where does that spark come from, and is it at all worth trying to keep it alive? If an artist is neither seen nor heard, do they even make a sound?”

It’s a sentiment that not only do they fully espouse in their work, but one I can back to the absolute max. It’s not about the technicality, but the raw energy, and it’s right up and in your face, and then when the vocals come in against that welter of guitars, it’s absolutely fucking glorious. There are numerous references I just can’t call to mind, but there’s a dash of Therapy? and a pinch of Bilge Pump in there, and the refreshing thing about Bedsit is that while so many contemporary acts who bring that 90s vibe present sanitised, cleaned-up interpretations, Bedsit keep it raw, rough and ready – and in doing so properly capture the spirit of the era they’re so deeply rooted in.

F.I.D.O. is a massive, grungy monster. Driven by thick riffs and thumping percussion, the melodic and contrasting vocals land between Nirvana and MSP with aa hint of Fugazi as they melt grunge in a pot with post-punk and post-rock that maybe hits a spot in the region of Trail of Dead. But none of this really touches the rush and the squall.

The bottom line is that they’re bursting with energy, and they’re a band you can believe in. ‘F.I.D.O.’ kicks all ways, and the amount of ass-kicking they packing they pack into four minutes and twenty seconds is incredible.

The single comes backed with ‘Click Track’, a frenzied thrashing furry that’s pure and brimming with passion.

Feel the force.

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BEDSIT - _F.I.D.O._ ARTWORK

8th September 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

GLDN – the vehicle for the one and only Nicholas Golden – blasts in by way of a return after a few fallow months with a single – his sixth – in the form of ‘Harmful If Swallowed’, taken from the upcoming remastered and expanded deluxe edition of their first release, First Blood. There was a lot of blood then, and moving forward, this new offering is less gore-centric, but is somehow yet more disturbing. This may just be a personal response – but then, what response is there to anything artistic in its nature – but I tend to be more unsettled by the psychological than the visceral. I mean, in real life, blood makes me feel nauseous and faint, but ultimately, I ca n handle it, but headfucks, they’re harder to handle.

Tripped-out piano provides the initial disorientating backdrop. Of course it does: GLDN’s domain is the dark and unsettling, and his cues stem in no small part from Nine Inch Nails’ magnum opus The Downward Spiral, the point at which Trent Reznor really found his stride in terms of nuanced composition and dynamics beyond harsh and soft, loud and quiet, but expanded his emotional range and sonic texture.

‘Harmful If Swallowed’ is well-studied, then, but it’s more than mere appropriation. This is one of those songs that’s dark, dense, and menacing, rather than overtly abrasive and aggressive, and the twisted, tangled emotions it explores are introspective and desolate but interwoven with a sense of underlying tension which hints at the turning of tables.

Two-thirds in, things take a turn for the heavy with a chugging crashing in as flames erupt and the darkness and crushing sense of apocalypse take over.

Stylistically in visual terms, GLDN is equal parts Reznor and Manson, striking and disturbing in equal measure. In the accompanying video, GLDN goes full Jekyll and Hyde. The Reznor GLDN crawls, naked, skin peeling, hunched and traumatised, flipping to thee sneering, croaking Manson GLDN who is the demonic supreme master.

GLDN continues to test, tease, and challenge, both musically and presentationally, and ‘Harmful If Swallowed’ is strong and progressive on all fronts.

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1st September 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Since I was first introduced to Salvation Jayne, back in 2017, I’ve admired their energy, their punchy, punky rock tunes (unashamedly not ‘alt’ and straight-up kicking arse). But what happens when a band loses a pivotal member, particularly under rather messy circumstances? It’s nothing new, of course: Fleetwood Mac’s career after Peter Green was both longer and more commercially successful, and the same is true Pink Floyd after Syd Barrett’s departure and post-Gabriel Genesis. Roxy Music lost Brian Eno early on, and Marillion enjoyed a lengthy career post-Fish… and so on, from Iron Maiden to, er, Queen. Arguably, some of these lineup shifts have marked changes for the better. Others… maybe not so.

As far as many were concerned, myself included, Salvation Jayne was Chess Smith. Clearly, Salvation Jayne, releasing their first new music since her departure, would disagree, and they’ve forged on and are now clearly facing forwards and evolving. The arrival of Estelle Mey on vocals is swept over briefly in the band bio which announced a change in sound with the new lineup, describing it as ‘intense, dark and dynamic post-punk’.

It crunches in with warping electronics trilling over a murky bass noise that sounds like a bulldozer before slamming in with some serious force, the nagging guitar reminiscent of post-millennium Pitch Shifter and some vaguely nu-metal vibes, but still retaining the powerful pop elements which defined their sound, and it’s certainly a meatier and more aggressive sound they’re showcasing here. Contrasting shouty verses with a more melodic chorus, it’s a tried and tested structural formula, and they really work that dynamic, and it works well.

The layered vocals add unexpected depths and dimensions, and if there are moments where ‘Thirst’ feels crowded, the level of detail means there’s more to explore and it’s an adventure to unravel with subsequent plays and following the initial impact. Yes, Salvation Jayne are back, and they’ve got a big tune here.

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Salvation Jayne artwork

28th August 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Techno/industrial is rather like craft beer. It was invented in Europe (KMFDM are obvious progenitors back in 1984), before being embraced in the States and with Wax Trax! almost singlehandedly spawning a factory for the genre, which in turn found significant popularity in mainland Europe, particularly in Germany.

English exponents are rather harder to come by, although Benjamin Blank, who has been working under the Binary Order moniker since 2008, is a worthy representative. His words on this latest single, lifted from forthcoming album The Future Belongs to the Mad (out at the end of November), illustrate perfectly why this mode of music is ideally-suited to life in Shit Britain: “’Slow Blade” is a reflection of the decline I’ve witnessed in my lifetime. It’s a decline that has gotten us to a point where we are more concerned with passing the blame than attempting fix the decay that has rotted away at us all, leaving many despondent and lost, myself included.”

I’m writing this in the week that, as schools are due to reopen after the summer break, hundreds are being forced to close or otherwise relocate students because the buildings are unsafe, built using cheap concrete which is structurally unsound and liable to collapse without notice. Our government has known about this for years, but has failed to act. And, indeed, over the last thirteen years, our infrastructure has been slowly crumbling – our roads, our sewerage systems, our rail network – as profit has been put before people, and we’ve become embroiled in petty patriotism, culture wars, and outright horrible racism and prejudice of every kind. It’s no wonder Blank feels as if our small island is sinking while the only things rising are rates of poverty, depression, and other mental health issues.

‘Slow Blade’ feels like a significant progression from the material which comprised previous album, Messages from the Deep. While it incorporated guitar elements, it was very much in the vein of early Nine Inch Nails, the sounds crisp, tight, overtly synth-dominated. In contrast, ‘Slow Blade’ is far more gnarly, far dirtier, more raw, rough-hewn, and simply more metal. And not the kind of metal you’d likely associate with industrial – the likes of Ministry or perhaps Godflesh – but gritty, murky black shit smashed together with the guitar slabs of nu-metal. At least, to begin with – because ‘Slow Blade’ is a song of psychotic multiple personalities, and a song in three parts.

Unexpectedly, the songs slows and goes first expansive and melodic, then explodes in a frenzy of stuttering techno beats that’s more Fixed than Pretty Hate Machine, and then it brings the two elements together in the third and final stage. While to suggest it has a particular arc, narrative or otherwise, feels like something of a stretch, ‘Slow Blade’ transitions through a series of emotions, from blind raging fury to the acceptance of defeat as everything collapses. The end is final. And we all know it’s coming.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Stoneflies – Now I am Become Death

This one has landed timely and on trend, with a title quoting J. Robert Oppenheimer, in turn quoting The Bhagavad Gita, a 700-verse Hindu scripture, which contains (in translation) the phrase “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” With things potentiaally still on the brink in nuclear terms between Russia and Ukraine, the prospect of global nuclear annihilation stands as likely now as any time as in the early nighties. To take a line from The Psychedelic Furs, ‘get smart: get scared’. And if it’s not nuclear annihilation, it’s climate change… we are all fucked, and the clock is ticking.

And yet…

If Barbenheimer has become a thing, whoop for the resurgence of cinema. Really. This is not an easy time to stay afloat, to keep things together. But… bigger picture. The world is on fire, but instead of funding fixes to climate change, the mega-rich are taking holidays in space. Hawaii will take billions to rebuild, but instead of donating from their spare billions to support it, Musk and Zuckerberg are facing off over a cage fight in the most embarrassing showcase of a machismo pissing duel this millennium. Fuck! This is wrong, so, so wrong.

In the face of this, it figures that black metal and goth and a host of genre forms which emerged from the bleak times of the 80s and early 90s have taken a firm hold on the now. Sure, I’ve mentioned it before, but it clearly needs reiterating: dark times inspire dark music and dark moods, and these are certifiably dark times. Fascism, racism, and oppression, are on the rise. You can’t trust anyone, least of all the government. They’re fucking you, and they have an eye on your escape.

We’re told that ‘Now I am Become Death’ is ‘a powerful and thought-provoking journey through the depths of human emotion and introspection. With hauntingly intense instrumentals and emotionally charged vocals, this track encapsulates the band’s vision of merging extreme metal’s raw power, progressive metal’s experimental arrangements, and psychedelic rock’s mesmerising spirit into a genre-defying sonic experience.’

We’re also told that ‘Their music is an exploration of the human psyche and the complexities of our existence with the new track a journey through the darkest corners of the mind, confronting our fears, and the struggle to emerge with a newfound sense of purpose and strength. ‘Now I am Become Death’ is part of a series of singles, which will be released over the coming months, from upcoming album All Too Human.’

Emerging from a hovering hum and an electrical crackle and darkness visible, a whistle of feedback pierces the eardrum… slowly descending, for a moment ominous and eerie, before the drums and guitars start to build… and then everything kicks in, a monster trudge of overdriven guitars and gasoline gargling vocals.

It’s brutal, pure devastation. ‘Now I am Become Death’ is four and a half minutes of ferocity. From the low, slow, insistent bass and wailing anguish of otherwordly voices before things assimilate into a demented, dark, groove. Where Stoneflies succeeds is in their balance and menace at the same time; the weight isn’t without detail, but the detail doesn’t diminish the weight, making for a tune of massive impact.

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Stoneflies artwork