Politburo's sound is encrusted with the dirt of ages, a filthy fur coat adorned with heraldic raiment; a jewel-encrusted hand that nevertheless displays chapped and burnt fingernails…
Politburo – The Oldest Empire EP
Right, First off, I don't know if the EP is actually called The Oldest Empire, I'm flippantly assuming it is 'cos it's track one. No matter what I can say is that it's essential that you get your paws on this, as its tremendous stuff.
This sort of fractured guitar noise has been perverted into something too mannered, too well mannered in recent years, an Anglophile eunuch in tweeds reduced to a series of yawn inducing moves. Shadow boxing of the most fey kind. Luckily for us we have The Oldest Empire to play, for Politburo's sound is encrusted with the dirt of ages, a filthy fur coat adorned with heraldic raiment; a jewel-encrusted hand that nevertheless displays chapped and burnt fingernails...
A sense of ebullient enjoyment emanantes forth. It's almost cruel. One imagines Peter the Great presiding over a particularly sadistic banquet; Boyars out on the razz, running amok, pissing in primitive hearing aids and tearing up copies of Stukeley's Itinerum Curiosum, that sort of thing. It's the sound of a wanton, sensuous enjoyment mixed with a cruelty of intent. Trustee is similarly breakneck, screams of intent intertwining with the guitar in a knotted, bloody welt. In Increments She Will Have It is a veritable Death Disco, as played to the unwitting Hugenot victims the night before The St Batholemew's Day Massacre.
The music on this EP reaches back far into time and space and drags something vital out of the past to remind us all of what rock and roll is all about. Get it without delay.
Words: Richard Foster.