It’s got something of that lackadaisical attitude that The Saints, Royal Trux or the Teardrop Explodes used to spread around, and should be the soundtrack to lots of bedsit rave ups.
Given the way Josephine Foster’s I’m A Dreamer is produced and presented, it should come as no surprise as the whole enterprise feels totally out of step with the present time.
All over in 36 minutes too, how the FUCK did they manage to cram all of that in in such a short time?
I’d say this is an essential LP, really worth listening in to. It’s enervating, tough, uncompromising and something that is at times, pretty bloody far out whilst being incredibly accessible.
Broderick’s work always reminds me of things that Rodelius does; especially when you take into account those very minimal, spacious, but melancholic piano runs...
It’s deceptively quiet, under the radar music that heralds (I bloody hope) a great LP from this German duo.
So, mental baggage left firmly in the rubbish dump, we can say this record is as diverse and refreshing as can be.
So Relent is not really something that will grab you, but then, I suppose its main strengths are its patience, its disarming simplicity and its clever sense of balance.
Shades on, quiet, and curled up in a monstrously big leather chair, Dee Dee was charm itself but maybe bemused at the ridiculously early interview time.
I’m trying to protect the artists on the label, and the listeners for Erased Tapes from that, from that mono-world.
It’s so sad they split, they were so much fun. But we have this, and in time they’ll be seen as a special band, no doubt about that.
You may laugh when I suggest that it’s a poppy record but I really think it is; you can get into this and dance to it, it’s Iron Maiden, served up for Kafka fans.
Deutschland, Deutsche –California, and now, Deutsche-Ormskirk. And nowt wrong with that!
What does mark the album out is a demented energy, it often feels like a twisted soundtrack to an old black and white slapstick short.
Leaping off very high structures seems the only sensible course of action for JLS fans, although, as Stephen Watt found out, it’s less enjoyable when it involves a relative.
In a city where takeaways are the front line in a turf war, our epicurean chronicler is forced to seek sustenance in an unforgivable place.
Dark thought this record is, it’s not depressing, and it doesn't bring you down. Cathartic maybe, listenable definitely. Loveable? Very probably.
Rather Copeland reminds me of one of those outsider artists like Ferdinand Cheval or Henry Darger, people who mindmap and create huge, mystifyinig edifices of work; stuffed full of weird curlicues and cul de sacs.
Haines has this very expressive way of playing keys too; he hammers through the notes, pressing the keys like he’s battering through some Mozart concerto, using his playing to signal changes of mood and pace.
So imagine me drawing a shiny sun and a green field getting ploughed up by a bloody great big tank with “heavy metal groove” written on the side. Katadreuffe were that good. Savvy?