Flies on You – Nothing to Write Home About

But this is a record that documents the here and now; you can feel the rain whacking the tarmac as you walk past the carpet warehouse on your way to the 24 hour garage for your pie. It’s grim.

But this is a record that documents the here and now; you can feel the rain whacking the tarmac as you walk past the carpet warehouse on your way to the 24 hour garage for your pie. It’s grim.

fliesonyou.co.uk  http://fliesonyou.bandcamp.com/album/nothing-to-write-home-about

An extraordinary record full of the sort of the terse, no nonsense post-punk that seems to have stepped away from being just a sound from a particular time and become a modus operandi for Those Who Are Not Heard. I can draw an instant comparison to other people doing their own peculiar thing in the cold hills and dank valleys of Northern England, like Monster Island or Churn Milk Joan or Howl in the Typewriter. Funny, sharp and sadly over-educated for the place it finds itself. Fans of the late 70s alternative rock scene will love the sounds being proffered here: there are bits that come on like Eno or Bowie such as It Creeps. There are bits that dip their toes into other ponds, such as the cod trance on Yeah Wild I Know But Nonetheless, and Hum comes on like a Goff take on Sheffield Sex City but in the main we get growling McGeogh-style guitar lines and adrenaline-driven drumming, such as on on Josephine or Frying Tonight.

But as I hinted earlier, this is a record that documents the here and now; you can feel the rain whacking the tarmac as you walk past the carpet warehouse on your way to the 24 hour garage for your pie. It’s grim. A lot of this record sounds like a frustrated howl, tracks like Slashing It Down and You’re Shite cataloguing the sort of hopelessness that only happens when your carrier bag breaks outside of Aldi – at times things like Spain get slightly uncomfortable – probably it’s meant to get you squirming in your seat. But the odd gobbet of pure rage aside, the LP wraps the visceral lyrics and snide observations in that safe pastry known as Wit and Charm, and the outlook is very much in the vein of John Cooper Clark. Check Shipmanesque for example. And when did you hear a line (outside of HMHB) such as “Asinine Laughter” or “the detritus this neighbourhood attracts” for example?

It’s a very fine record. Very fine indeed.