An army of lost souls to rival Aragorn's Wight Army in Lord of the Rings; bands whose members still flit through the sodden crevices and dingy folds of the Pennines.
Snappy, sardonic, funny and occaisionally brilliant. And another release in a steadily growing list that looks to address the current fault lines in the YooKaay. There, review done, I could get my coat, but I'll stick around a while longer because Flies on You's latest splendid LP, etcetera, is a dogged, cussed record and worth writing about. They lay down this LP by increment, adding sharp remarks and sardonic musical twirls throughout, tracks like Action Stations crossing off a range of subjects and targets like a nice thick, oil-based 4b pencil striking through the numbers on your bingo sheet. By the last three tracks (Swine Hero, Mysterious Jill and Method Actor) you feel like you've been able to memorise all the important facts and figures before you head down the pub to thrash out the Ways of the World. And some of the funniest, and most cutting, lines in a twelvemonth find their way onto this LP: Our Little Secret is a razor sharp attack on abuse, and Katie Hopkins in Human Form takes the best, and noblest way to deal with the latest Home Cunties lunatic lizard, good old fashioned, Formby-style cheek: "We Are not halfwits / Because you think we fail to freshen our armpits" could have come out of Henry V. Oh, and Brenda gets what for too.
The LP sounds "grizzly"; the growling fuzz of guitars and the steady beat adding a watery wash that seeps into the corners of this LP. Tracks like People Like Pete, Poor Excuse and All Out of Proportion have a sound that surely has its origins in weeks of steady rain, using a lathe, trips to Bury market, or that first twin tub dryer your parents got in the mid 60s. Throw in a bit of '87 Altham Industrial estate gloopy e-synth, (the sort of low rent, bedsit takes on Magazine or Primal Scream's "baggy phase") as seen in Ugly Cousins and the brilliant reggae-lite of Roof Space, and you've surely got the picture. In all of this, the band's sound also betrays "spiritual" links with Ceramic Hobs, the Pumf lot and the myriad of lost Lancs/Yorks bands (Plastic Spearmen anyone?) who dug Nothing But the Fall, and Lee Perry, and quite liked Happy Mondays, but all ended up like sounding like bedroom Chumbawumbas... An army of lost souls to rival Aragorn's Wight Army in Lord of the Rings; bands whose members still flit through the sodden crevices and dingy folds of the Pennines.
Listening in is also a very much like watching a bloke in a pub who's really really good at doing some trick with a beer mat, a trick that never fails to raise a smile, a trick that raises its maker to a mythical status. In that every time you listen in you enjoy this record and can draw something from it. Flies on You are one of those grumpy/funny/caring/unfashionable bands, like King Champion Sounds, Jumble Hole Clough, Calvin Party, Stranger Son and Monster Island, all of whom deserve far more attention; simply by adding a little bit of pixie dust to what they do.