Nikoo have started to slowly inject their sound with a tougher set of sonic additives.
Ah Nikoo, how to describe you to the wallflowers and ingénues? Well, a mix of skater punk (à la Mad Capsule Markets) trashy emo and West Coast hairspray metal; but a hairspray metal that – thankfully - owes more to a dirty approach to glam than any airbrushed wankathons. That would be a fair summary in my estimation. So noisy, but also in a way that grabs your attention, even if listening to Funsports makes you feel like you’re locked in a late night conversation with a drunk in a bar. Sometimes it’s hard to decipher what the band really want; there’s some trickster vibe at work here, and on listening to a track like Jesse you wonder whether this ADHD yowling is some massive joke. Whilst D.F. does present a cleaner take on the Mary Chain’s moping (the vox are still screeched out) it’s still pretty Gonzo. You do wonder if they like to walk the line between really meaning what they scream, and not meaning it at all. But in the end, all is wrapped up in the band’s sound; it’s sort of irrelevant to wonder too much about what they’re trying to say; and in this respect the last track, The Coast is the best on here; a glittery stomp with a great glam descend that acts like a wrecking ball to the senses.
Nikoo have started to slowly inject their sound with a tougher set of sonic additives. Things are mutating away from the charming and messy scream-me-downs that filled their earlier EPs to a tightly welded set of a highly polished, “anthemic” hollers; ones that conjure up mental images of burning rubber, sun-bleached highways and wide skies. We also get a lot of spleen venting; something they’ve done it since day one. As I hinted at earlier, listening to these new chrome-plated assaults is akin whacked with a piece of two-ply. Which may be a subtle critique of their native Eindhoven; who knows? I’m none the wiser.