Graham Reid | | <1 min read
Just as you might think when you see a pensionable age person with a brand new Smiley face tattoo, so you might look at the photos of the thirtysomethings on this album cover and after enduring their noise say something like, “Act your age” or “Are you serious?”
This Irish quartet open their second album with the sound of singer Dara Kiely apparently breathing through an actual panic attack over a throbbing tone before embarking on a yelping collection of dissonant guitars, noise, light-industrial clang and chanting declamatory lyrics which are so mashed and imagistic that their meaning largely remains known only to Kiely and his maker.
Apocalyptic, dystopian or just plain desperate, you be the judge.
But to these ears this sounds like a band aiming for the punishing post-punk ground between The Fall and San Francisco's Chrome, but without the wit or what then passed for challenging experimentation.
Much praised by some, I note. This is what the Guardian critic liked very much.
You're welcome.
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