They obviously dig psych-outs (as indeed all true Heads should, it’s the fountain-head of all great alternative rock)
It’s bristly and very Scottish, but not in an overbearing way. It’s focussed and has that keen, pure quality of light refracted through a prism. No wind and water wank here.
There are 6 tracks, all pretty much based round a wobbly synth effect that sounds like a futuristic didgeridoo.
However earnest and honest the intent of these revivalists they can only ever sound like copies.
As a whole it isn’t a bad album, just not as excoriating as one might hope.
We are at music school, and 90% of the people there listen to Led Zeppelin, or some blues shit and they don’t want to make anything new. They only do guitar solos and drum solos and waste their time.
Unintentionally the international rugby (which appears on the Bar Pacific’s big screen behind the band) adds a unique backdrop to the gig. The moments where the music and the televised steaming, jousting man-flesh synchronise are what makes life worth living.
What could be better than spending a cosy Sunday afternoon in a living room with some of the hip & wonderful on the Dutch alternative scene and see a couple of gigs?
Hanging around in old threads glumly shifting feet in the stinking and unventilated airport-style section for smokers, trying not to get eye contact with the smattering of heavily made up Goth/Industrial/Gay Rights types wasn’t what we’d hoped for.
Heck, take it from a lazy cliche-spewing hack, for even a half-decent scope-out of today’s indie music scene you pretty much need this.