|Label:||Dancing on Sharks Records|
When I was a kid, I was one of the wee dicks you’d see parading round every city in the UK back in the late 90s/early 2000’s. Big black trench-coat, New Rock boots, an over-engorged sense of entitlement and a penchant for My Dying Bride, all within my own personal raincloud. You get the idea. Now as an adult I have grown out of this somewhat appaling phase, but my taste for the morbid and the macabre still rears its head now and again.
That’s probably why the moment I saw this album I knew I wanted to hear it. The cover art looked so bleak, a little disturbing yet forlorn and almost pitiful, I had high hopes that the music would be the same. It may be a cliche, but I know what I like.
From the first eerie piano chord it was obvious that this was anything but a happy record, which became even more apparent as each new layer of ethereal noise lapped at my ears like the ocean over jagged rocks near the abandoned ruin of a gothic castle.
That's what this whole thing reeks of. The gothic. Not the latex-covered, neon-sporting depression-machines that populated the 90s, but the kind found in literature: merging desolation, horror and morbidity with beauty and finding that they can somehow be the same thing. Of course there is an element of macabre here, and often the passages creep close to cheesy, but they remain on the acceptable side, especially due to the absence of stereotypical deep Goth vocals. Instead, what human voices there are tend to be ghostly, rising up from the pit to howl at the listener amidst the wretched, low end drone.
This is the soundtrack to every broken streetlight in every dark alley you've ever been in. From start to finish we’re guided through a downtrodden, miserable world of grey where the inhabitants have embraced their eternal doom and burrowed through to the other side. Excellent listening for those of a more morbid persuasion.
Posted: Thu 11 October 2012