Posts Tagged ‘Sleep Kicks’

17th March 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

In the feast or famine equation, there’s rarely a true drought when it comes to quality new releases, but this month really does seem to be one for an eye-popping proliferation, and the arrival of Sleep Kicks’ debut album after a succession of singles and EPs is a most welcome arrival along them.

Having previously showcased – and raved about – previous releases, it’s a joy to see The Afterdrop finally land. Most of those previous singles – ‘My On Demon’, ‘No Chains’, ‘Hall of Shame’, ‘Neptune’’, and, most recently, ‘Words in Vain’ are featured here, along with a different recording of ‘Exodus’ from the one that appeared on the Summer EP back in July 2020. It’s marked as an edit, which makes me curious to hear the full-length version performed as a full band.

Having frothed and foamed exuberantly about the band’s melding of dark post-punk with soaring pop aspects with each single release, I’m running low on my reserve of superlatives. But there are four new songs here, and then there’s also the question of how it hangs as an album – whether or not if feels like a padded-out singles compilation or an album proper.

I suppose the first thing to point out is that while all of their previous releases have been digital-only, The Afterdrop is receiving a vinyl pressing, meaning the songs finally feel solid and tangible in a way they perhaps didn’t before, and with the atmospheric instrumental opener, ‘Reflections’ lifting the curtain on the ten-track set, it does very much feel like an album rather than simply a collection of songs. It’s dark and spacious, with robotic drumming driving it along.

It’s then straight into the vaguely gothy post-punk of ‘Words in Vain’, with its stonking bass and fractal guitars, a tune that on its own should have earned the band global domination on a par with Editors and Interpol. ‘Neptune’ is synthier, but its poppiness is countered by dark undercurrents, and it’s a rush, as is ‘Exodous’ – a thunderous bass and brittle guitar that’s pure Interpol circa Turn on the Bright Lights defining the side.

In previous reviews, I’ve also likened Sleep Kicks to fellow Norwegians A-Ha: some of this is down to Terje Kleven’s vocal qualities – rich, varied, and with a knack for inflection, but equally, they’re a band I’ve always returned to because there’s there’s a darkness to their pop that I feel has been largely overlooked, and it’s this amalgamation of darkness with a pop sensibility that is what I’m driving at with Sleep Kicks.

‘Silencer’ – another one of the new songs – is slower, sparser, but brims with brooding and emotional resonance, and, once again, it’s magnificently crafted. This is true of every one of this album’s ten tracks. ‘Orbiting’, another song which hasn’t been released before, is bittersweet bliss and again revises the 80s spirit with a brooding yet accessible slice of guitar-driven desolation.

Again, in a just world, ‘No Chains’ would have been their ‘Pompeii’ and would have seen Sleep Kicks on the same pegging as Bastille – again, there are similarities, but the fact is that Sleep Kicks are by far the better band. It’s an unjust world where it comes down to label backing and pluggers. But then, we know it’s an unjust world, and the music industry sucks. But there’s a world outside the industry, and ‘Hall of Shame’ with its choppy guitars and snaking bass runs is as good a song as you’ll hear all year. But then, so is ‘My Own Demon’. In fact, The Afterdrop is an album without fault, and as good an album as you’ll hear all year, or ever.

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3rd February 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

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.

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Clever Recordings – 21st October 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Hot on the heels of ‘No Chains’ in the summer, Sleep Kicks follow up with ‘Neptune’ as we fade into autumn. And there’s something of an autumnal feel to the reflective feel of ‘Neptune’.

‘Was it an act of spite / Or was it the unrelenting time / That pulled you away that night?’ Terje Kleven questions contemplatively at the beginning of the song against a warm, rolling bass and rhythmic blend of piano and chilly synths. The vibe here is distinctly early Interpol, and it suits the band, and the song, well.

Kleven’s moderate baritone rides some deftly chiming guitar that breaks into a strong chorus where the synths come to the fore and sweep upwards to forge something uplifting while still tinged with a taint of melancholy.

Yet again, Sleep Kicks have dropped a killer tune that balances darkness and light, depth and immediacy, in an example of outstanding songwriting craftsmanship. Or, put simply, ‘Neptune’ is another great tune from a consistently great band.

29th July 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

There’s something quite unique about the Nordic / Scandinavian strain of contemporary post-punk. It’s not easy to pinpoint, nothing you can really put your finger on. But there’s something in that balancing of light and dark, and it’s something I probably became subconsciously attuned to at an early age, listening to A-Ha in the mid-80s when I was still in primary school. I would only later come to realise just how strong the currents of darkness and melancholy ran through their precise pop songs, and that this was what the enduring appeal was years later.

Sleep Kicks don’t sound like A-Ha, of course, although the same basic musical elements are there, not least of all something of an anthemic 80s feel (although that’s more In the vein of The Alarm or Simple Minds and bands with a more overtly mainstream ‘rock’ style). ‘No Chains’ picks up were they left off last year, and they’ve been honing the contrasting elements. The song is dark, but also light, with layers of guitar and a full production that gives it an expansive feel, but it is, also, without question, a killer pop tune with an immense chorus that’s bold and uplifting, with a sweeping choral backing, which makes for a big, fat, juicy earworm.

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30th April 2021

Christopher Nosnibor

Ten months on from last year’s ‘Summer ‘ EP, headed by lead track Recovery, Sleep Kicks return with ‘My Own Demon’, and it’s a solid second single to say the least, putting meat on the bones of the live acoustic version that featured on the EP.

The comparisons I drew to A-Ha and Editors in reference to its predecessor are again applicable here, as the Norwegian foursome spin a hypnotic atmosphere through the medium of strolling bass and chiming, reverby guitar to carve a song that’s a balance of taut 80s pop and brooding new wave, and anthemic is the only word to describe its epic finish. With a wash of guitars and a powerful, uplifting ‘wo-ah-hoh’, you could easily picture this being played in front of a packed arena with several thousand hands waving aloft in time.

Yet, at the same time, the delivery of this big, soaring chorus, is quite a contrast to the lyrical content, which are so striking in their intimacy:

Always feels like someone’s coming after me

Never seem to find a cure for this anxiety

Every day it stays the same, I fear tomorrow’s call

Would be better if it never came at all

We all have our demons and our anxieties, but tend not to talk about them, despite the fact we probably ought: free and open discussion is the only way we will change attitudes to these things, and normalise the topic of mental health, and how it feels to wake up wishing you hadn’t. But we’ve all – or nearly all – been there at some point. It takes real strength to not only commit such lines to paper, but also actually sing them out loud, but it’s that investment of emotion that resonates, and – as I often say – in the personal lies the universal. And this, this reaches out and touches the soul in a special way.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Daily, I read about how the current situation is affecting bands, and, indeed, every aspect of the music industry. That said, it’s always the grass roots and lower echelons who are hardest hit, as is the case in any kind of crisis. Major-league artists will always be ok as gong as there are radio stations to play their stuff and produce a steady flow of royalties, and their millions of fans continue to stream their songs endlessly online. Beyoncé, Bono, and Ed Sheeran aren’t going to starve under lockdown.

But bands who rely on gigs in pubs alongside other bands who rely on gigs in pubs to find a fanbase and maybe flog enough merchandise to cover their fuel between said gigs have nothing to fall back on.

Sleep Kicks’ story is by no means unique, but they way they tell it as they present their new single really brings it home:

The whole live music scene shut down less than two weeks after our debut single came out. Instead of doing gigs and rehearsals, we just kept going, working on our own with a handful of songs we had recorded. Mixing, videos, artwork – the lot. We suddenly realised that one of the songs happened to describe this weird situation, and the feeling we somehow knew we would have once this whole thing was over. In short, the soundtrack to coming out of urban lockdown. It turned out an epic ode to the city, and at least it helped ourselves keeping the spirits up during the bleak times!

With ‘Recovery’, the Norwegian quartet paint scenes of an empty world springing back to life, and the difficulties of the prospect of readjustment.

A rolling rhythm and chiming guitar pave the way for a strolling bass motif and they coalesce into a spacious, reflective soundscape that sits between A-Ha, Editors, and mid-80s U2 and Simple Minds. Things kick up a notch and even nod toward anthemic around the mid-point of this six-and-a-half minute epic, before blossoming fully for a mesmerising final minute, where it soars on every level as they cast their eye to a brighter future: not the chalk-drawn rainbow on the pavement featured on the cover art, but a life of fulfilment, a re-emergence from the stasis of the now to actually living, rather than merely existing.

For a ‘little’ band, they have a big, ambitious sound that’s also got big audience potential. Here’s hoping they fulfil it.

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