Having agreed to review this long player, three things become swiftly apparent:
(1) I know nothing about music.
(2) Judging by the publicity photos, Britney (of the Ms Spears variety) has really let herself go.
Above and beyond the shaved bonce episode.
(3) I really do know nothing about music.
Her eponymous album of the same name came out in 2001; this isn’t it.
This is three Scottish blokes in baby grows making an unholy racket, wrestling their instruments with gusto and having not once been married to Kev Federline; ever; probably.
Second album in a year from these fellows and I’ll confess it’s not a genre I’m over familiar with currently.
They’re is a vague Misfits on ketamine and amphetamines vibe and it does bare some similarities with musical calamities I’ve launched myself through in the past but it’s largely an alien scene; no matter; onwards!
‘Gaping Maven’ sets the tone and we’re off; some lively drums, doomy, thrashy guitars and vocals sent through a megaphone (the wrong way around).
Not sure what they’re singing about but there’s an aggressive fecundity that’s for sure; I feel interfered with
Fire alarm goes off at end; from there we blast on through until ‘KEM’ (track five) goes nicely discordant on us; all too briefly perhaps.
A swaying groove but an angry and more than slightly worrying menace, you could clear a dancefloor with this one come the end of the night wiith added nightmares for the punters, in a good way.
Mind, if I thought that was a mere snapshot, next up is ‘The Luthier’s Parable’,which rolls in at an expansive three and a half seconds; certainly one of the more concise myths I’ve come across, short and to the point and a rattling good yarn.
‘Steezy Dan’ is the highlight of the second half with some hefty percussion amongst the growling and shouting; could dance to that whilst plotting some kind of massacre methinks.
As noted, it’s not all a million miles an hour; most thrusts rudely along at Mach 20 but there’s room from some doom and gloom at a more sedate pace.
‘Hell Wisher’ was a favourite across the whole effort, though I suspect it may not have my best interests at heart.
No idea what this three-piece are like live but they look a gleefully rum bunch, with some of the brevity contained herein I’d advise paying attention and not waiting at the bar too long or standing in the cloakroom queue to deposit your jacket.
They’ll probably be finished by the time you’ve achieved all that faff and almost certainly set fire to your clothes anyway.
One for lovers of battering rams and guitar-based assault; in an insane way, I like ’em.
Words: Andrew Morrison