Still in their seeming quirkiness there is method and a great pop song writer literally taking the piss out of all other exponents of this art-school, post-punk squared genre (I wonder I can say that).
Still in their seeming quirkiness there is method and a great pop song writer literally taking the piss out of all other exponents of this art-school, post-punk squared genre (I wonder I can say that).
Enon – Grass Geysers… Carbon Clouds
http://www.konkurrent.nl/ http://www.touchandgorecords.com/
I love the promo blurb which accompanies this CD, it’s straight from the Julian Cope style of autobiography.
Oh shit! Enon are back with their long awaited 5th album, and this time they brought the can of whoop ass! Blasting through 12 tunes lodged between your conscience and the red lights, Grass Geysers Carbon Clouds is chock full of topics all over the map, and they’re not stopping for border checks either…
Tremendous, and they’re not wrong. There’s nary a pause between one snotty, high adrenaline-rush track and another. The first indication of a slowing of tempo is on the fourth track, Sabina which is a love song of sorts. Still in their seeming quirkiness there is method and a great pop song writer literally taking the piss out of all other exponents of this art-school, post-punk squared genre (I wonder I can say that). Peace of Mind is a great garage stomp with a sleazy heart, reminiscent of Sister era Sonic Youth.
Elsewhere, pigeneration is a funk work out of sorts albeit with an attractive follow me type quality to it. Undeniably our favourite is Mr Ratatatatat, which displays a Fall-style grumpiness. It’s a classic girl-boy question/answer track. Paperweights is an enjoyable, grumbling dance track whereas Labyrinth is an intense military stomp with the odd broody moment…
Things finish with Ashish; a spooky reflection not a million miles away in mood from (but far more poppy than) The Overload by Talking Heads. Suddenly things open up with a coruscating guitar break shattering all around it.
Love it, but not for the faint-hearted.
Words: Richard Foster