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I often find myself reading reviews full of words in search of particular blends, insights, shades that I didn't grasp while listening. Constantly, I am deceived and overwhelmed by walls of words saying the same things. BOREDOM.
How beautiful is a record that lasts 40 minutes containing 6 songs? Spiderland? Eeeeeh almost.
┼BLACK COUNTRY, NEW ROAD┼
I recall more or less the moment I listened to Sunglasses around 3/4 of 2019. Struck. Instantly. A tarry piece and at the same time smooth as oil, Slint-ian arpeggios and counterpoints between sax and violin; a pleasant constant.
But it was at the end of 2020 with Science Fair that the game got tough, that the announcement of the first record was clear and carved in the muck of the English scene that has seen the "for fun" trinity (Idles, Fontaines, Shame) go from alternative stars to future arena rock bands churning out mediocre records.
For the First Time is an organized hullabaloo, the history of prog made into a record: from Can's Tago Mago through the madness of King Crimson and the indolent peace of Tuxedomoon, reaching the focal points of Laughing Stock by Talk Talk, Spiderland by Slint and Leaves Turn Inside You by Unwound; a conglomeration of intertwined impressions and sensations but directed in the same direction.
The June of 44 of the new millennium with presumption and healthy self-referencing. A band that is founded on saxophone and violin, revisiting the American no-wave while basking in Sonic Youth.
⌂KLEZMER⌂
The extreme pleasure of finding in Instrumental and Opus (opening and closing the record) this Jewish element carried forward by the violinist (for very strict reasons) that encapsulates the topos of the record, the mental phase, with Balkan dance rhythms making surreal a work resting between dream and nightmare.
×LIVE×
It might be a shame not to find phantasmagoric pieces that have shaped the mystical imagery of this band:
Basketball Shoes
Algorithm e Kendall Jenner
Snowglobes
The Black Country, New Road enhance their first two singles by enriching the rhythmic section (the drummer took lessons) and offering an ambient intro to Sunglasses and a closure worthy of that name to Athen's France; These 7 London boys surely represent the brightest point of the "for art" trinity, at an imaginary midpoint between Black Midi and Squid.
They exude awareness, self-consciousness. The tragic theatrical vibrato of Isaac Wood is a nauseated reflection of himself, of his group, the world’s second-best Slint tribute act (first the Black Midi? The Squid? Who among the Speedy Wunderground peers?), of the context, of possibilities and everything else. References references references. Each object placed shatters, each fragment is eloquent, penetrating like when you hear shout it’s black country out there and then mistakenly call the group Black Country Out There.
References references references
Intelligence manages to appear genuine, immune to the spoken word syndrome that dooms non-singing frontmen to say something, failing each time. I increasingly rarely read music reviews, but when I read of spoken word and clear influence of The Fall, I immediately understand that it’s a scam: nine times out of ten the influence of The Fall is clear.
I would say Lux Interior, or Peter Murphy, for the tense declamation; if it weren't that it's not rock 'n' roll air, nor even a backwash. I say Tim Darcy without the metaphysics: Wood’s writing is writing of ideas in the world, but the metric sense is akin.
It might be the first record with the title Helvetica I've listened to. Someone predicted for Helvetica a fate similar to Comic Sans, but for now we don’t know.
It's a small collective that can afford brass, synths, and strings, yet manages to rest against the background. They fill and fill, more assured than in the past (just listen to the polished print of Athens, France), phrasings and phrasings, dissonances and funeral marches; they seem on the verge of repudiating the melodic intent that shapes improvisation, but never lose it so much as to lose the piece, there isn't the Black Midi sensation of fireworks for no festival.
They release on the former glory of nu jazz Ninja Tune, the one of Amon Tobin, recently engaged with anthropological reworkings that seem more appropriation than anything else (listen to Romare's latest effort or Bicep's very fresh sophomore flop), and restore credibility to the London scene, as GOAT of nu klezmer.
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