Wizardy, prog dance stuff from the south coast this is. "Cloaked anthems", I read. Elements getting stirred up on flinty beaches. Slabs of keyboard stretching out to the horizon. Invading armies crouching in cloudy shadows - with tiny goat bells tinkling on their godly ankles, if the album opening is anything to go by. (Did she just say "Give us the drugs"?) Vintage equipment creaking and wreaking, lips wet with the spittle of conquest. Bounding, excitable drums.
"Tunnels" sounds a bit more Tron, more lasers at the seaside. The keyboards could still eat a small town; Poundland signs and Greggs baking trays hanging from their brownish teeth. "Kingdom" has some flatulent, regal gargle going on, marking the tribal boundaries and that. Funny how the echoes in this music bounce off the sky and swell the sphinctre, whereas the more nostalgic reverbations of other bands wrap the brain in electric blankets of inwardness. Perhaps by the end of the 500, I'll have some hard-won insight as to how that comes about.
In the meantime, I'm filing this under jetsamic vinegar or something similar that will mean nothing to me when I come back to it. I shake my head, I really do.
Rating: Beachcombers out of Pulsar