A dash of classic Northern British Spleen given an alt country twist, this is not an LP to put on if you’re going out on a jolly.
Fabulous Goth country brooding from
The opener For When We Forget and Bones of The Saints are magnificent exercises in self-restraint and balance, though the mood suddenly gets more strident and dirty with tracks like Mean Old Jack - which is some work-out let me tell you, and made all the more enjoyable for the Theremin part at the end - and the magnificent growls that are There is No Evil There is No Good and Rubbing Up.. The LP possesses a tremendous amount of thunder and can kick up some noise when it needs to. Give Nautilus a listen for proof.
Exhausting stuff, but tremendous, nonetheless.