Life Without Buildings
Any Other City

THE REVIEW

Stopped watching the dead leaves. Life like in a dream, a series of meaningless movements. And this voice.

I wave my little arms as a persuasive tool when expressing a concept I feel is mine. Here I am now, waving my arms like a flight attendant pointing out the emergency exits.

This album is one of those escape routes marked with a big green neon sign.

Is it legitimate to fall in love with such an ungainly little voice? Rainbows come out every time Sue Tompkins lets out a scream. She is the undisputed protagonist of the album, hopping and riding candy floss guitars and a rhythm section in atrial fibrillation. She repeats words almost to the point of losing their meaning with (self)ironic twists.

They bring to mind the Van Pelt, joyful Blonde Redhead, Ponytail indebted to this band. A similar singing style leaves few references. Fast bursts of guitar seem to explode at any moment, yet remain limping. Adult hands play with the curiosity of a child, with the desire to experiment, everything still unripe to be corrupted. The Scots perhaps want to sting but give us an album with softened edges, where impetuousness and reflexivity go hand in hand.

Sue is now a visual artist and holds exhibitions around the world. I like to think that her art retains all the neurotic positivity of her vocals.