View The Review
9 out of 10
Country Dances starts as any album so entitled should - with the sounds of a forklift truck fucking a heart rate monitor. Various sounds amalgamate, impregnate and fester to produce a perilously contorting cacophony of malaise, but this is a beautiful disease, like the raped girl from G N' R's Appetite for Destruction inlay discovering that she is pregnant. (I'm guessing her offspring would be something along the lines of Tetsuo)
This is a violent whirring and shuddering beast; imagine Venetian Snares if had a more Teutonic bone in his body and I'm not talking about being buggered by Kraftwerk. This is, and, most importantly feels fluid. It may be improvised and jarring but each gurgle has its place, this is the sound of three minds melding, of joining, twisting and cavorting. No drips where there should be drabs, the experimental nature of this summons allusions with Sun Ra, Kayo Dot and indeed Everlovely Lightningheart. Hell lets ego feed those snake heads - Grey Machine's abundant electronic queefing certainly shouldn't be overlooked.
4th track - Rubbed Out suitably posits itself in the mechanised two tones of Eraserhead, but this is where that maniac keeps pulling the other lever. Remember where you left your ears because it is unlikely you will have arrived prepared. Desolate drones club together whilst dog's barks ensure anyone expecting a chorus is left long behind. This is music from those un-filmed moments of bedlam and terror post adrenochrome consumption in HST's F & L.
Snappy stickwork and stalking sub bass throbs gee along the pensive N4 Comedown which, gallantly, invites round terrors loopy friend - confusion. Fortunately as he was about to sit down and cause a nuisance, his Mum called and told him he had to go home for his tea (cornflakes and mustard placed under the eyelids).
The wealth of musicianship that this trio exude is quite staggering and although there will be naysayers based on the lack of convention (get out naysayers, what are you doing here anyway?) this really does warrant an enforced aural inspection, especially when more rhythmic treats turn up in the shape of Spectre & Wagon and also The Spume. Tim Giles' drumming on which is both inventive and spasmodic.
At first glance the artwork seemed too childish and playful to fit this often dark tiger mauling of an album, yet on closer inspection (not to mentioned continued listening) it became apparent that beyond the malevolent edge of this cluster fuck there is a playful vibe that not only deals with the unrepentant crunch of this desperate hollow we call life, it also showcases those brilliant glints where it all comes together to vanquish the rough and rejoice in the soul. Which is why a crayon image of an inverted Yggdrasil seems so appropriate, or have I got the wrong end of the tree?
Listen: www.myspace.com/levertonfox
Tracklist:
1. Radar Remote
2. Prang
3. Basking Sharks
4. Rubbed Out
5. N4 Comedown
6. Uncle Jack
7. Vulpecula
8. Spectre & Wagon
9. The Spume
10. Absenting
No comments:
Post a Comment