NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - July

10ft Tom / Austin Tweddle / Cactusman / Northern Horizon / Six Billion Monkeys

You’re on your own at the back of a smokey bar, drinking away the pain of a lifetime of bad decisions and troubled situations, feeling lost. Don’t worry. 10ft Tom (and his Leprosy Crooks?) are singing a lil’ rock’n’roll just for you with their song, People Like Us. The chord cycle in the verse rolls like a stone whilst our giant singer reads a register of dedications. The excitement as the band speeds up in the choruses is endearing, like a child taking you by the hand to show you a new painting they’ve drawn. As a single-finger keyboard string line is added to the orchestration, and the singer assures us we’re not alone, the song leaves the ground carrying the listener to a more hopeful place.

As our singer meanders through lyrics reflecting upon the complications of a femme fatale, Austin Tweddle’s appreciation for Sheffield’s LA Teddy Boys could do with being ever so slightly diluted. His lazy drawl is seamless and cool, and this modern noir is completed in Blueprints by a female backing vocal singing in unison at the choruses. The production is crisp and perfectly judged, allowing tastes such a modest tremolo part and a soulful distorted distant guitar to sit within the mix, embellishing without distracting. The track outros with a rally of repeated distorted guitar motifs as our Romeo’s frustration finally concedes and he begs for his beau’s ‘blueprints’ of the song’s namesake.

Cactusman certainly have a taste for the bittersweet in their song Death Of Me; from the teary lead electric guitar tone painting with arpeggios, to the rainy lead melody. Even the accompanying visual artwork to this song is a delicious extension of the mood, with its heart and death collage of mixed materials. Death Of Me classically combines the optimism of a recycling positive chord sequence and resigned and mournful lyrical content. When a female voice harmonises in the choruses, our lead singer’s mildly flat pitching is emphasised. Though certainly an imperfect flower, this ballad is the demo that glistens the most this month. Alongside entries that celebrate traditional forms,
this is no exception, but Death Of Me feels like a sudden expression that captures a mood instantly, and the band have had the wisdom not to mess with that.

The production does not get slicker this month than with Northern Horizon’s Miss Hopeless, a song psychically connecting the teen spirit of Ajax, Ontario at the turn of the millennium with the present adrenaline of five boys from the North East. Steve Waltl’s accent denies any British routes for a seamless brat American voice. His delivery and control of glimpsing falsetto moments are expertly handled and own this punchy and angsty pop ballad. The track rocks its groove seamlessly between a full and half-time feel whilst maintaining a solid heart throughout. With just a pinch of something more unique in the ingredients, this would have walked the demos this month. 

The most embryonic demo this month comes from Six Billion Monkeys, seemingly the pseudonym of Rodney Hall. There is a devil sat on my shoulder tempting me to reflect the tracks title, Are You Prepared?, back on the songwriter and if he was not selling the song, I would have not let those thoughts onto this page. The track pumps Am, F, and E chords over a crude delay-heavy drum pattern as lyrics are yelled through distortion far back in the mix, barely audible. Though it may serve as a useful draft, those with the lowest-fi, punk penchant would still want to add a cherry or two before calling this finished. 

[2015.07.16] for NARC Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - December

Miss Danby & The What / bltp / Tighten Grip / Glenn Maltman / Debs McCoy

‘Humdinger’ by Miss Danby & the What’s is an uninhibited and joyful celebration of its muse. The garage door is lifted fully up, and this pop-punk ode jingles and jangles, warbles and tangles into the sunshine. It is a testament to the songwriting that a lot of ideas are packed up inside this three-and-a-half minute pop song without distracting the listener from the overall rush. Catchy guitar melodies and changing drum patterns add colourful definition to the sections of ‘Humdinger,’  whilst the vocals, charming for their manic vibrato and approximate pitching, lead the parade like kids on skittles. Not only does this gem promote a wonderful and underused noun with its title, but the song exemplifies its definition too. 

‘TheFour’ is a sombre warm-pad meditation by bltp (Budda’s Last T-Party.) As the sustained chords slowly rise and fade, the sound is never quite resigned to silence as each new tension replaces the last. Emerging from beneath the tide is a second voice; a soft synth whistling glissandos like a wind exploring the contours of a coastline. The patterns are patiently intensified with the tones overlapping more readily until a climatic held chord at the finish. This piece is poignant for wrapping up alarm quietly within a deceptively calm ambience. The melancholic intervals and enduring siren, however softly they are both treated, innately disturb our subconscious.

Grungey, broken-chords underpin a sorrowful description of a character facing judgement in‘Fall’ by Tighten Grip. Tightly synchronised riffs, lead by dynamic drumming, drive the song on through despondent lyrics until the reserve of its character breaks open, and Simon Dowling’s vocals unleash an impressive raucous wailing over instruments now spread in distortion. The sense of loss and despair is all-consuming as the voice eventually falls underneath the noise of the final progression. The length and ecstasy of the final act implies a longer journey leading to it than we are given. Further discussion of more hopeful times in the narrative would justify the resulting trauma, eternalised by a track fade-out.

Glenn Maltman’s track ‘The Star Navigator’ offers the greatest disparity between technical instrumental skill and compositional imagination this

month. Throughout this chilled aperitif, the fingers of our composer scuttle and spring across the keys of the lead piano part with clarity and precision. Though some of these patterns show invention, the supporting “backing-track” is tediously monotonous and muddy. It is understandable to utilise peaceful tones to highlight the brightness of the lead part, but this incorruptible beige shows us more with each passing minute the composer’s indifference to truly supporting the piano’s organic changes.

As these nights draw in, Debs McCoy’s soundscape ‘Therapy Sessions 1’  offers something tender to the severity of the season. It is a gentle creature, revealing itself in cello lines and pensive piano assertions. Low bowed drones underly each thought; sometimes as a comforting blanket, at other times as a deep depression. As the piece develops from its initial timid, and more abstract, motifs a spritelier pattern emerges in the piano part. As this life reveals itself, the weight of the strings subsides. Though much of the tonality of the individual parts are rooted to a major centre, they are cleverly arranged into a collage which uses various juxtapositions to disorientate the natural positivity of major intervals into something more ambiguous and strange. The reverb is applied with temperance aiding the natural sustain of the instruments. When the last chord fades, you realise how this music has elevated your sympathy, for in the silence that follows, you feel that the sound is still there, like a phantom limb.

[2014.11.07] for NARC Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - November

Far Pacific / Control Zed / Jake Fletcher / The Raging Sickness / ako

I Know starts with a gleaming high-pitched electric guitar line, and when the band joins in with a swaggering funky-beat, complete with a raspy trombone, a cheeky positivity shakes the airwaves. Enter the vocals and a confirmation of Far Pacific’s mid-90’s Indie roots. The lyrics are delivered in the style’s typical nonchalance, making broad confessions with arbitrary rhymes until the choruses come around and the song title is repeated as a refrain; each repetition taking us to a new level of boredom. The production is strong and the choice of tones sit supportively with one another, but such quality in this area acts only as a cherry on a very plain sponge. 

Four repetitions of a gently disarming 7/8 drum beat welcome our ears to Control Zed’s ’Stop and Rewind,’ before the pattern is gently fleshed out with an arpeggio acoustic guitar riff and a root-note bass-line. The vocals are tightly accompanied with choice harmonies. Melisma is employed casually in the melody of the verses, and with it being closely paralleled with a backing harmony, this gives Stop And Rewind a memorable personality. A xylophone interjects in the breaks falling just the right distance from twee. A sinusoidal electric guitar part lifts the energy in the final portion of the song, before letting the primary riff cycle a few more times at dusk.  

Terrace Row Defeat is a macabre ballad testifying for various proletariat archetypes and their problems in endlessly rainy times. Over strummed strings and a soaked skipping beat, Jake Fletcher observes the deadly routines of characters from Bennett’s Talking Heads, round his way. From his young eyes, he spots a danger, and warns ‘if you’re gonna get out, get out now.’ Such advice from an aspiring-to-tour troubadour maybe misjudged, but flying from the ark, he is more like the dove, and someone who wants the best for his community.

Perhaps when Metallica released Kill ‘Em All in 1983, songs with such an aggressive pro-destruction character could be seen as reflective of a certain paranoid position of American thought surrounding The Cold War, fearing what might be. The Raging Sickness’ remake of these sentiments feels flaccid and unsympathetic in a time where minute-to-minute violence is occurring and evidenced for general public viewing on the internet. Though I admire the ambition to create drama, the lack of originality, both lyrically and musically, undermines this song’s intended power; the parodies on display to the listener here evoke similar feelings that a parent might experience waiting whilst their toddler exhausts themselves through a tantrum. 

ako’s ‘process/us’ displays a number of charming musical attitudes, and has melted its way to be the primary focus out of this month’s bag of tracks. This six-and-a-half minute instrumental has its roots in house music; driven by a wonderfully leathery pulsing kick-drum and low-pitch wet looping bass-line. Touching my instincts particularly are its minimalist heart and patience. Calmly out of the heartbeat emerges syncopated clicks, ricochets and soft keyboard intervals, until a wobbly sharp synth bursts the track open for the sunshine. The mix of melodic loops of different lengths, and a strong use of the major-third driving the bass, keeps process/us in perpetual motion. By the final act of the track, the listener is gliding high over a glorious terrain. Throughout, we hear replays of whispering voices. The montage intensifies, as if the satellite is zooming out, and witnessing the greater buzz of international traffic. This track takes city lights at night and puts them with dreams and feelings of possibility.

[2014.10.04] for NARC Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - October

Slow Moving Targets / Chased By Badguys / Neolithic / SkyRush / Ilser

Our singer at Slow Moving Targets uses a combination of nonchalance and primal assertion to relay his kitchen-sink observations in Dirty Knees, a bluesy seduction letter. Earthy sexuality is order of the day; from the song title and accompanying EP cover-image to the primitive use of pentatonic riffs and raucous singing. A tight, slim production is preferred and works particularly well with a percussive breakdown section involving hand-claps later in the track. The lead vocals go from a droll patter relaying description to wild cries of desperate profession, ditching diction when touched by the full-moon. 

A sweetly naive keyboard part introduces Ghost by Chased By Badguys before an acoustic guitar overtakes the progression with the chords plucked to keep a pendulating beat. The forced vibrato of the lead singer’s vocals whines sharp against the gentle backing instrumentation, and although the attempt at conveying unrest and passion in his voice is noticeable, the effect is grating. A tape-recording sample is presented at a critical point in the song as a poignant document, but anything other than hiss is unplaceable to the listener, leaving the reason for it inclusion unclear. The instrumentation is tastefully arranged from the start, right through to when the narrator’s resultant loneliness is conveyed with the track concluding with nothing but synthesised strings repeating a refrain. 

Life’s purpose seems somewhat tarnished to the folks from Neolithic with their twenty-four minute dissertation, Born To Suffer. At volume, this recording serves meditation on the weight of life, offering a sound consistent to the usual dimensions of the Drone genre. The instrumental parts, shifting tectonic plates with their might, have been well captured. When the vocal screaming erupts from the noise, it is well articulated above the booming. Lacking any major idiosyncrasies, the adjective Neolithic in the band-name perfectly describes the compositional level of development in Born To Suffer, where the rudimental possibilities of each instrument’s sound is sufficient to achieve their muscular purpose. This track chants anonymously alongside the congregation of its church. 

Why Me? is a simultaneously excitable and anxious indie-pop song by SkyRush lyrically orbiting a protagonist’s vulnerability and resilience. The bass riffs cut through the electric-guitar and drum noise lushly, providing a central personality to an otherwise messy sound. Garry Benns sings his words with a brave conviction though a natural fragility accompanies each phrase. At the choruses, a sweet harmony tenderises the lyrical sentiment. An alternative ending to the arrangement would serve this song well, as the current rallentando-drum-fill-pow feels rather cheesy outside (and one might also argue inside) of a live situation. 

Rachael Whittle’s wonderfully bending voice slowly twists through Ilser’s moody grunge-rock ode. Out of the creeping, Last Chance explodes in the choruses, thrusted by the bass-drum and power chords hitting nearly every down-beat. As the format dictates, a guitar solo breaks after the second chorus and mixes moments of brilliance with awkward stumbling. The words seemingly outlay a prayer to a saviour but serve a more threatening gesture as the song develops. Unfortunately, at climatic points, Whittle holds some sustained notes out-of-tune and the clear production does not protect the singer’s fallibility here. 

Though I am not the bee for this flower, Slow Moving Targets and Dirty Knees deserve the top spot in September’s Demo of the Month for their clarity of songwriting and its execution. They uphold the spirit revived by Sheffield’s favourite simians with rock ’n’ roll at their centre and a song mixing dry wit and documentation of a localised existence.

[2014.09.11] for NARC Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - September

The Pastures / Morpion / Red Pools / Fleckt Pets / The Rt Hon King Of The Cosmos

The Pastures’ ponder the eternal questions with Ball & Chain. Two rock-steady acoustic guitars, a bass and a faithful cajon drive a melody sung with a West-Coast drawl. The evenly plucked arpeggio inversions and melodic chordal shifts in the verses ignite memories of the Crash Test Dummies’ transcendent hit whilst the tightly wound harmonies in the chorus look to a future-hope, like in Dispatch’s The General. The lyrics are delivered as if from the perspective of a wise-man, and ponder existential tribulations. Each of the many thoughts are started without further exploration or conclusion, which, when delivered so authoritatively, sound more pretentious than humble. The lead guitar solo is expertly delivered and after a final chorus leads the track into a Hotel California-style outro.

The artist categorises Grip as a track made ‘post-Burial,’ and it certainly provokes speculation as to whether they are organically influenced or riding within the trails of a sound now popular. Morpion’s submission starts as a hard and wonky power-walk through the heavy air of a vacant underground tunnel-network, interrupted by a repeating shout of ‘hey’ in the ever-distance, before a tremolo synth sweeps the track up into a more mechanical and intensified environment. Paranoia and unease are traditionally achieved with samples of language, distorted and broken enough not to be accessible.

Slow shifting progressions materialise from a cold distorted frost in the first part of Red Pools’ soundscapes. We are introduced to reverberated stones clicking and samples of inaudible radio conversations as the prominence of the chordal aspect of the sound increases in volume and intensity. Senseless I climaxes with chains rattling and a squeaky toy before the chords fade into a rough rumble. A sample of a male voice repeating ‘seven’ and tapped typewriter keys link us to Senseless II which is built-up over a regular thrusting bass-drum beat.

Fleckt Pets are staring frustration straight in the eye realising that they ‘can’t live with you, and [they] can’t live without!’ Tight clean Fenders are strummed and flicked across an off-beat hi-hat drum pattern, and all instruments are played with the unashamedly unrefined delivery of the punk-tradition. Our singer snarls spoken sentences for the verses, fighting for attention in the mix whilst pointing criticism at the subject of his torment. At the choruses, he is supported by backing-shouters as they all repeat the catch-22. Can’t Live is charming for juxtaposing spiritedness against futility.

Jet-packs are set to full-blast as we meet the people who covet the superior ranks in the Cosmos. With If I Was In Charge Of The Red Button We’d All Be Dead it would seem perhaps it is not so good to be King. Consumed by a fear that everyone is out to get him, our singer wails observations in support of his panic over grungey riffs until a wild wah-wah solo rips up into proceedings. A repetitive chant of ‘It’s in me, it’s in me, it’s trying to kill me’ builds towards the track’s final reprise of the main riff. All in all, a lot of gas in the tank, but no clear direction. 

Can’t Live by Fleckt Pets is September’s Demo of the Month. It is joyful in its simplicity and the result compliments its inspiration. Though, like all of the submissions this month, Can’t Live sits firmly within the expectations of a popular genre, the immediacy and passion of Fleckt Pets’ performance felt the most sincere and generous. This song is a gift for the moment; a simple catharsis, less for the mind, more for the body.

[2014.08.14] for NARC Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - August

Holy Goof / Dancer / Jam Sandwich / This Then / RoutineZero

Holy Goof roll Cinematic Hum along at a gentle canter with a strummed steel-string. A sorrowful vocal slides lyrics over the chords like a hopeless ghost-rider, weighted with experience of the broken-hearted. The production honours the performance perfectly allowing this track to sit comfortably alongside the sounds that have inspired it. This track displays a vulnerable shell with its gently moving vocal and light strumming, whilst the propelling snare and blues inflections assure an inner strength beneath its surface. After riding this song, giving aged advice, the narrator conceives to their reality of youthful errors, sympathetically repeating the line ‘all young lovers do.’

Cut up samples of the track title Tryin, linked with a bass and synth, open Dancer’s ode to effort. A crescendo builds halfway through spilling out into a scratchy euphoria. After introducing the characters of this play, including wondrous wood-block-esque samples, our composer expertly delineates a build-section with flair, off-setting the final release with a disarming precursor. The synth pitching towards the end is stretched slightly like an old tape playing back. This aesthetic against an energised pattern creates the classic combination of euphoria and melancholy. Compacting this track to a radio-edit makes the sections feel rushed. I’m sure this mild criticism would be obsolete in the full-length edition.

The aptly titled Jam Sandwich enters with a short bass motif as atmospheric distant synths crackle and fuzz. Percussion like the flickering of butterfly-wings awakens into a break-beat pattern and the bass develops into model phrases. The piece finds its platform halfway through as an electronic piano, straight from the 90’s, unisons quicker riffs with a solidified tertiary bass-refrain before finally reaching a repeated ascending synth riff which climaxes proceedings. Though much of the baseline is unashamedly oneristic, this spectacle grows in the listener, from the feet to the head, until all is praising in the church of movement.

This Then briefly describe a walk by a church in the first verse of Sierpinski. The narrator, with his rich North-East accent, vaguely hints of a realisation from a painful experience, though what exactly is left indistinct, as the remainder of the track takes us instrumentally through minor motifs whilst a steady programmed beat repeats without distraction. Subtle spring effects in some of the guitar and drum parts add colour to the very basic hooks. The title seemingly references a mathematically satisfying triangle that contains subdivisions of itself. Perhaps the outline described in the lyrics is the outer wall of the subject and as listeners we are asked to imagine the details?

My. Word. #Rare is a hundred Red Bull’s deep, power-marching to a brassy shrine of lust. There is a lot of crude sweat perspiring from RoutineZero’s brash sonnet, from the aggressive vocal delivery to the dismissive categorisation of something the protagonist finds special. With every word of cliched flattery and ham-fisted observation our lyricist seeks to raise positive punches to the sky. The sound uses the angles of Kraut-rock but negates the optimism of that movement by folding the sonics into a commercial format and using them only to carry a song that revels in reducing rare to yeah!

This month’s Demo of the Month is Rave Tape’s measured blend of jazz and rave. Jam Sandwich is perfectly paced in its elevation from glimpses of phrasing to a full-on endorsement of dancing, all supported by tasteful mixing of carefully selected sounds. It is refreshing to have a submission that appreciates the jamming of elements for their own sake without a further motive. 

[2014.06.13] for NARC Magazine

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - June

Foxymoron / Massa Confusa / Eliza Smiles / The Montagues / Avast! Narwhals

Foxymoron has given us a somber taste from his latest EP, 'USB,' with Pixel Memories. The initial keyboard motif emerges as if pressed through glass before the track explodes into synthesised melancholia, unleashing rigid half-time thrashing drums, and the ever-searching major IV- minor VI progression. A mix of higher pitched scales and broken-chords relive the pixels of the title in variations; dancing like stars in a rippling pond. A B-section predictably subdues proceedings before relinquishing once more to a fuller version of the central pattern. Foxymoron successfully creates digital recollections of a reflective mind but the experiences then feel like he has organised them into a mass-produced photo-album.

An arrested wind up the locrian modal scale on the guitar over a pedal bass drives Massa Confusa's 'Dream,' as the lyrics chart a stream of consciousness. The drums are mixed as tinny as stock loops from a casio keyboard but this tone is helpful in qualifying the monotony of the lyrics' list of experiences. At the choruses, muddy distorted guitars complement wonderfully bendy bass parts inspiring heads to conservatively mosh. The use of lyrical pedal-words and phrases, and a dynamically flat musical landscape, slowly hypnotises the listener into the insecurity and ever-changing world of this song.

Next we have Eliza Smiles' addition to the heritage of mid-nineties alternative-rock music. Their song You Better Run swaggers in the musing's of a self-confessed stalker. Lauren Amour seeks authority in an American accent to channel power in her vocal delivery, particularly in the mighty choruses, complete with nanana-ing in unison with a pentatonic guitar riff. Weak as... she is not! The recording captures the odd sloppy moment: the occasional unevenness in the drumming patterns, the guitar solo losing its way slightly amidst a phrase, but this serves the personality of the music more than it detracts.

Throughout 'Don't Go,' a track from The Montagues' latest EP, Silver Linings, Liam Dickman soaks every lyric he sings in desperation. Although this relentless approach marries the topic, the consistency of the delivery grates a little. Rich guitar tones have been sourced, and a sympathetic delayed electric lead-line adds rain to the tears of our tormented singer. Although the song is a bitter pill, the thrusting drum march and brevity of this track make Don't Go expressive rather than indulgent. A drum-stick semi-quaver motif at the fade of the track is a delicious, seemingly throwaway addition and paints the possibility: Perhaps the jilter concluded their dramatic departure exiting by horse and carriage? Hmm.

Finally, Avast! Narwhals give us sage advice with Never Fuck A Polar Bear. Rocking between time signatures, this recording captures the excitement of a band with a fine balance of absurdity and musicality. The nautically-themed trio blend their individual talents seamlessly in a style they label as shantycore, and this noise rides high and wild through various manifestations, and though there was once a blueprint to this track's construction, the performance captured here is one dancing far beyond compositional realisation; at every stage it reaches for something special.

And so - although Foxymoron runs in a close second for his luscious euphoria, this month's Demo of the Month goes to Avast! Narwhals. Listening to the focused interaction of these musicians performing this song is equivalent to watching Neptune expertly guiding his chariot through the challenging spirit of the mighty ocean. The joie de vive unleashed in the recording is not only palpable to the ears, but then contagious within the heart; a spirit that every good rock and roll song should embody.


[2014.05.05] for NARC Magazine.

NARC Magazine Demo Reviews - May

Lovely Wife / Kings & Queens / Joey Murphy / P. D. Gregory / Head Of Light Entertainment 

The first of this months demos is a raucous instrumental composed as an immediate tribute to Lou Reed, recorded on the day he died last October. True to honouring the Factory man, this seventeen-minute plus behemoth from Lovely Wife comes rough and ready, as if captured by one scared microphone. The guitar charges the beaches from waves of feedback,  whilst the rhythm section drifts in and out of consciousness. At eleven minutes in, the beat unravels and the sounds melt into ricocheting white noise, masterfully tamed to the songs exit on honed singular harmonics. 

Next, Kings & Queens bring unashamed riffs from stoner-rock and metal heritage with their debut EP 'Exposed.'  The mandate is primarily revivalistic, with the music serving as a catalyst for pure catharsis. The energy in their songs certainly inspires motion, and I imagine their shows would leave you dripping in sweat. The production of the recordings unfortunately denies the songs their intrinsic power though, with the drums mixed thinly amongst the crunching guitars and the lead vocals spaced a little too far forward from the band. This EP is well-paced, concluding with the most joyous anthem 'Smells Like Cherries.'  with soaring plagal harmonies driving the choruses.

Stretched vocals and choice retro samples are compressed between a slow pendulating beat to paint the sorrow of Joey Murphy's 'Hurt.' The variety of volumes at which each sample is mixed into this collage excellently represents a broken character plodding through turmoil. The lyric 'I hope that someday soon, all the pain will go away' emerges as the song moves on and melodic lines crash around like waterfalls. Abruptly finishing at just over two minutes, I feel Murphy could have expanded more on the mood he had sensitively established. 

To be able to watch a sunrise after an adventurous evening is one of life's luxuries, and I am drawn to music which compliments this reflective and wondrous phenomenon. P.D. Gregory, with his peaceful instrumental 'Distance,' records similar emotions over a slowly crescendoing track built upon a repeating organ arpeggio. Excellently judged, incrementally out-of-tune drones initially light the background of this piece, before the pulse settles and other synthesised keyboard sounds ornament the progression. With the final section concluding with noisy and reverberated distorted guitars, typical to certain prog' tendencies, the drum machine's limited tone is sadly exposed in the mix for this portion of the recording. Frustratingly, the track ends as if clipped due to it being bounced-down accidently short. 

It would appear Head Of Light Entertainment's band-name is a legitimate boast from their offering 'Dwindle Dwindle Little Hope,' a sprightly jaunt through Pop Park. This song even features a whimsical xylophone part! The snappy subdivision of the lyrics allows for fun puns and surprise content to drop at every stage, whilst the band reliably skanks in support. The coda rounds the song off with a lullaby-esque refrain, where our backing vocalist assumes the lead melody. It is a patchwork of some enjoyable novelty but the sum is no greater than the parts. 

This set of demos included such an eclectic mix of styles with such disparate languages my selection cannot possibly weight their value against one another. My pick of the month, however, goes to Lovely Wife for the bravery to create music that organically determines its own length; for making a spontaneous yet thoughtful offering to a musician they respect; and for their musicality to balance improvisation, the manipulation of chaos, and melodic ideas throughout this singular recording as a truly unified ensemble. 

[2014.03.31] for NARC Magazine.