Tag: experimental

Album review: Thee Telepaths ‘The Velvet Night’

THEE TELEPATHS The Velvet Night [Mighty Fuzz] Here ’tis! The first full length album from the Kettering space/psych/noise rock quartet follows a couple of 12” EPs in 2016 and 2017….

THEE TELEPATHS
The Velvet Night [Mighty Fuzz]

Here ’tis! The first full length album from the Kettering space/psych/noise rock quartet follows a couple of 12” EPs in 2016 and 2017. Those excellent releases has meant no little anticipation has been building amongst the psych/alt community for The Velvet Night.

The band have developed their sound to arrive here; this album came out of a lengthy jam session when an extra track was required. Once the hour-long jam had been poured back over it was abundantly clear to the four that, recorded and edited properly, there was actually an elpee of coherent material right there. So far, so Hawkwind. But what makes this album so fascinating from beginning to end is they have tightened the sonics and the songwriting into something bigger than they had previously achieved. Any prevailing ghost of Spacemen 3 or Neu! or Sabbath has been wholly exorcised; all that comes through is their own unique signal. And it’s one that should put them nearer the front of the current psych revival too.

Pulling the album apart is a very hard job. It is very difficult to separate any part from it’s whole. The band know this, and they have tried to avoid any disjunction by simply creating three acts: ‘Alpha’, ‘Epsilon’, and ‘Delta’. Within those movements you get ‘parts’. ‘Alpha Part 1’, for example, is a heavy krautrock epic, pushing the limits of what the brain can take. Dean’s ethereal vocals ride the wave of the Loop/Suicide style repetitive synth swells. Pummelled by the metronomic drums and bassline from Vincent and Tim, Tom sends stabbing notes of guitar fuzz through the mix. It’s conclusion makes way for a breather, as the calmer, floating ‘Part 2’ bring respite from the onslaught that was ‘Part 1’. The tempo is ramped up for ‘Part 3’, and a Floydian synth line takes charge. ‘Part 4’ is a timestamp, a precursor to the onslaught of ‘Part 5’, which returns to the themes of ‘Part 1’, but this time with even more emotion from everyone involved.

‘Epsilon’ is eleven minutes that sounds a tad more contemporary. The Wooden Shjips/Hookworms pulse of ‘Part 1’ is spirit-level steady, and allows Dean room for some vocal manoeuvres. You don’t ever really catch what he’s singing about, you just feel it in the gut. In ‘Part 2’ the proggy guitar lines send the listener leftfield, whilst ‘Part 3’ pulls things back, and we’re into Sonic Youth or ’90s stoner territory. It’s another peak in a song cycle full to the brim with ideas that gel better than you’d imagine from any description a writer could provide.

‘Delta’ feels like a reset button has been pressed, and a bit of intentionally aimless flow opens up. ‘Part 1’ gives you Wah Wah Land, and a vocal seemingly in freefall. Is this where the trip turns bad? ‘Part 2’ suggests not, as we realign our chakras and forge onwards with new energy and renewed belief. The sonic breakdown here is akin to a vortex of sound, a whirlpool to let oneself be lost in. The instrumental ‘Part 3’ brings us firmly out on the other side, the guitar fuzz blurring our vision somewhat as we stand on our musical shore basking in solarized warmth. The final movement, ‘Part 4’, is a brief howl of joy that we have survived the entire thing.

It’s certainly not an album you can get on one listen, but The Velvet Night is surely an early contender for album of the year. There’s no come down allowed here. Just a widescreen, ecstatic, symphonic journey backwards into tomorrow that you won’t forget in a hurry.

Phil Istine

The Velvet Night is out now on vinyl and download

 

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Religious Overdose ‘Glass Hymnbook (1980-1982)’

RELIGIOUS OVERDOSE Glass Hymnbook (1980-1982) (Glass Redux) This retrospective compilation is very early post-punk, the Northampton band having formed in 1979, the year in which the very notion of post-punk…

RELIGIOUS OVERDOSE
Glass Hymnbook (1980-1982) (Glass Redux)

This retrospective compilation is very early post-punk, the Northampton band having formed in 1979, the year in which the very notion of post-punk (or “new musick” as it was first coined) was first being talked about, and its ideas being explored. Guitarist Richard Formby would move onto work on In Embrace, Spectrum, The Jazz Butcher and more, before becoming a studio producer. Vocalist Alex Novak would move onto The Tempest, Attrition and his long-term project Venus Fly Trap. But there and then they were experimenters in noise and emotion, taking on board the contemporaneous sounds of PIL, Joy Division, fellow midlanders Bauhaus et. al – alongside the psychedelic kraut bands (primarily Can and Neu one can presume).

The heady mix saw strange, often bleak, gothic lo-fi abstraction poured forth from the studio. Over three singles and a compilation track they briefly burned strong before the individuals moved onto other, equally-interesting projects. John Peel supported the trailblazing Relgious Overdose debut 45: the drum machine-heavy, hypnotic dirge of ‘25 Minutes’, which came backed with the industrial fuzz of ‘Control Addicts’. The second single ‘I Said Go’ bought the kraut influence to the fore in the unsettling 5/4 rhythms and complex vocal arrangements. It could have been a hit, in a certain light. ‘Alien To You’ continued the serious ambience of the earlier single, with some avant-garde, Vini Reilly-esque spiky guitar lines alongside Novak’s vocal in-and-out flights of fancy. Also from 1981 came the synth-led new wave of ‘Blow The Back Off It’, which appeared on a Glass Records compilation – and was good enough/should have been a single itself. ‘The Girl With The Disappearing Head (I’ve Got To Adjust To It)’ was the final A-side from 1982, the band now confident enough to be putting out 7-minute songs of jittery punk-funk that holds it’s head up well against their competition of the time. New drummer Pete Brownjohn does some striking patterns throughout.

It’s their final B-side, ‘In This Century’, which cements their legacy though. After almost two minutes of abstract noise (drum machine, triangle, violin, real world sounds) the songs kicks in with their most affecting song; a hypnotic, funereal off-beat jangle that would not have sounded out of place on Closer. There are four bonus tracks to round up this release, of which the ten minute demo version of ‘In This Century’ is the most exciting revelation. ‘Hazaal’ and ‘Talk Talk’ are unreleased recordings that stand up in comparison to the released songs, and only suffer a little for the demo quality of the recordings.

It all builds up to an impressive work of a band who freely admit they were making it all up as they went along. Bold, experimental sounds from a Northants past that can be treasured by all in this excellent compilation. Make sure you pore over the visuals in the CD case too – they create another world of their own.

Phil Istine

Glass Hymnbook (1980-1982) is out now

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