Organ Things of whatever day it is…. Dublin’s ever impressive Girl Band have unveiled another new song ahead of their highly-anticipated dates with Slint. Details of how you get your filthy mitts on a seven inch vinyl version of the new Girl Band single here.
Hang on , here comes an old school album review, like we did back in the days when it was all about printed words and waiting for John Peel to play it….
LARK – Bleeding Songs (Standard Lamp Records) – A forth album from the band led by Karl Bielik, something about Mickey mouse or Mickey Most and feeding what to who? Straight in to us, there’s a menace here, a undercurrent, a tainted air, a stomp, a pisscoat of a smell, a drugtank of a womb, take your medicine without fail, actually, the smell, is it a smell, whatever it is is a positive menace, a smell of good times paid for with hangovers well earned … It wouldn’t work without the rope ladder of the words – most use words as noise, as sound – no gifts beneath any trees, this is as album that talks to you, that demands you listen, words that toy with matches, weaver eggs, dam built by who? Seems familiar, was it on the BBC? Or was it ITV? An old school sound, a glorious throwback to the killing jokes and birthday parties of those fine days – he’ll be the punch, you’ll be the bruise, he the artist, you the muse, he’ll make things wrong, you’ll put things right. An East London based sextet, almost a throwback, a proper band, an old school menace, a swagger, a gun club of a swagger, old school swamp rawk from East London, old school East London, not the gentrified coffee-drinking version we growl at now. A strutting album, struggling for balance, high heels on, bodies or whatever buried over yonder, a hint of a threat, a sawn-off shotgun of an album, an impolite album, drinking for when you need to drink far too much in the afternoon, an album that sounds like a lot of swaggering menacing guitar bands from back there without ever crossing the line and getting too close for comfort to any of them. Late night bars, sleaze that may just lead you to that Hackney mortuary if you don’t take care, an album that demands volume, a set or taunts, a tease, a well dressed attitude that demands you listen (or else), claustrophobic, rumbling, low-slung bass to the front, words to the front, drums to the front, attitude to the front, everything to the front, the worlds of Nick Cave, of Miraculous Mule, Tom Waits, Killing Joke, all frayed around the edges and with a burning in the back of your throat, hey pissboy, you spunked all your money…. but you don’t need all these words, you’ve got links, you’ve got ears…. here you go, here’s the album…
And while we’re here, Unstoppable Achievers, effortless easypeeeeeesy….