Mike Patton once sang ‘shit lives forever’ and when I think about the demise of quality bands like This Et Al and the continued success of bands like The Kooks, I think he definitely had a point. Fortunately, before they did the big ‘adios,’ the big noise boys left us something very special to remember them by, and I don’t mean a turd on the Axminster.
Immediate. That’s what this is. “Walking in a figure eight,” Wu sirens over the ticking time bomb beat laid down by Steve Wilson shortly before Chris Wall and Ben Holden open up with a guitar and bass salvo so low and heavy that you feel it in your gut. The shift between ¾ and 2/4 makes it sound like a heavy metal version of Holst’s ‘Mars’: fitting, as this is classic TEA: loud, sloganeering, fast and harsh, sludge metal meets indie rock, Kyuss meets Joy Division. It is not a bad fusion. Not bad at all. Aurally, you settle in for some 6G riffs that will hurt for a bit, be utterly exhilarating but ultimately brief.
So ‘Medicine Hammer’ is a complete surprise. The fuzz guitar is pushed into the background, a lone electric takes centre stage, vocals are contemplative and the whole thing is more focused than frantic. The drums are still going ten to the dozen, but song itself is more stately – like a Rolls Royce with a Bugatti engine under the hood. The sound is even allowed to drop out for a moment. Not that old TEA was bad, but this is a more mature, measured dynamic. The riff becomes a shimmering drone and strings carry the tune off into the ether, demonstrating a complexity and restraint only hinted at in ‘Cabin Hum.’
‘Ice Age’ continues to buck the trend, opening with an accordion, giving the guitars space to breathe before blossoming rather than exploding. Wu’s voice still hovers on the brink of falsetto collapse, but it scintillates without cracking. They’ve evolved as a band, like Radiohead did between The Bends and OK Computer, and it is good; it’s exciting. New vistas beckon.
The EP closes with ‘(The Tale Of) Frosty Jack’, an instrumental folksy number, broad of instrumentation and sweeping of gestures – what sounds like an interlude but desolate, frigid and melancholic. In retrospect, we can see why, but hope lies on that frozen plain if you don’t consider what happens next. Until you do, the future is an exciting, if frightening place.
Of course, what did happen next was nothing. The band split, the album never got recorded, the supporting tour and consequent discovery never occurred. Pity; the sound was becoming more universal, the edge was just taken off. Perhaps that’s what did it. The aroma of compromise was in the air and they didn’t like it. Whatever the reason, listen to this, smile, then weep ‘til the sound of the dawn chorus reminds you that the long night is over.
The Figure Eight EP is still available on vinyl from On The Bone Records.
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