Shit… I was dozing… what? Y’what? A column? Oh fine. What the fuck do I write it about man? You tell me, audience participation and all that yak yak yak… What have I been listening to? Well that new Single Mothers album Indian Pussy is a hot contender but it’s such an incomprehensible clusterfuck that my sleep deprived brain can’t handle it, my sanity will start to topple over into outright angst like tiny chippings away at a cliff edge as I shuffle towards unconsciousness. That album was made by some fucking damaged people, I think y’ ought to know that, and listening to them in my current condition would not be… desirable… What? Well I’ve been working for 18 straight days, the fuck have you been doing? Yah that’s what I thought. Really all I’ve had time to hit on the news desk has been the new Horseback album but I don’t suppose you want to hear about that. Something something, too tired, just think of the column yourself if you’re that bothered. I’mma just lay here and let Horseback wash over me again because there’s no need to go gallivanting around after the three weeks I’ve had and try to make something of this. It’s just an album, a Horseback album. A lilting sensuous breeze that’s just a little too icy blowing slowly through the bedroom curtains as you lie comatose on the bed dreaming of a day off… what? Was that the album or my current predicament? Throw a fucking rock.
Oh fine, I’ll drag myself out of my stupidity-induced catatonia and scrape together a thousand words of slightly mellower than usual freakout if you’re that fucking bothered. Twoof be told, I’ve always found Horseback a bit of an equation, they’re firmly rooted in that subsection of music of people who know exactly how good they are and try to pretend that drone superscapes aren’t piss-easy to create and yet the ones they’ve built are superb and how lilting undulating songs that sometimes get a bit heavy are somehow fusing immovable bridges between folk and black metal (black metal is a folk music you fucks); despite all that which you get from every ambient artist whose music never fucking goes anywhere and is only useful if you’re having too much fun and need to bore yourself with some bad acid. Usually those kind of people illicit the repeating slamming of a head in a desk drawer and ignored as thoroughly as possible, but I’ll be buggered if I don’t have to then add that are the first artists who genuinely do that. Their pieces, while firmly resting in the ‘ambient drone’ space along with bands that would be beige if they were a colour, but their music is headstrong and instantly enjoyable, practically top 40 next to the likes of Earth and their more obvious Kraut purveyors… but goddamn it’s fun and engaging and imbued with a devil-in-the-detail obsessiveness that can’t help but endear the music to you. You’ll grab this album and one of two things will happen, you’ll listen to it four times in a day when you’re meant to be doing something else, or you’ll miss the train to tripsville and have to walk back to normality in the pissing rain. Okay, the whole album spun while I was torturing that out inbetween bouts of sleep and wishing I was asleep, so I’mma spin it again and dump on y’all my not-so considered thoughts on the motherfucker and then hit the sack, deal? Let’s fuck.
|Photo - Rich Trash|
Y’know, if someone told me this post-metally stuff could be engaging and interesting I’dda told ‘em they were going to hell for lying, but Horseback manages it through a heavy electric fug that hangs over the whole enterprise, even the clean guitars are bleeding out this black ooze that coats the whole album so thoroughly that it holds y’all in electric suspense, there’s the implication that any moment the whole album could drop and pull a Ramessess right outta it’s arse and blow y’all right out of your windows explosive decompression style with a twelve-decibel noise-leap and an attitude change like your long term partner catching you from behind and bottling you. Of course because this doesn’t happen, by the time the closer fades out you’re held in suspense, gripping the armrest of the seat and sweating profusely, tensed in case you gotta make a leap for the volume dial, even for a few minutes after that… those hidden tracks my man, they’re all motherfuckers. So yeah, if nothing else this’d be a useful lil’ numba in yer collection just for the suspense. Like a bomb under a table and the unspoken promise of shrapnel payoff. ‘Cept they show admirable restraint in never paying off our deepest desires and most whacked-out nightmares and instead blissing out. It’s a surreal experience, like witnessing the end of the world. Some of us are just fucking waiting while the boys from Horseback set about chilling out. It’s remarkably chilled out on first listen, and on the second you notice they’re just really far away, but they’re doing the heavy metal thing of carving out glaciers while a lone Viking is yelling from the few exposed mountaintops for them to stop. There’s an epic whole-side song called Hallucigenia which is gonna blast yer socks clean off. Something something else I dunno… fuck you I ain’t writing anymore… no… no… no okay, just don’t offer me speed like that man, I’m on the edge as it is… Don’t let your mouth be writin’ checks yer arse can’t cash. Something else, maybe about how Horseback are revolutionising modern rock and roll or similar, you’ve read my other stuff, imagine what I’ve written here. Zzzzzzzzzzzaargh! I just want to listen to Dust and pass out. Can I stop now? Please? Good. Well, the usual, facebook and bandcamp and give yer dosh to Relapse Records and Horseback direct without letting those Apple and Amazon cunts get anything from yooz. Single Mothers Indian Pussy review probably on Friday, don’t look at me, I don’t schedule. Though I am going drinking on Thursday night so mebbe I’ll be able to bring myself to listen to it then. I dunno, that’s about it, I’ve had enough today, not of you dear reader but just the day itself. Maybe tomorrow will bring us some new insight into our toil.
Written under duress by zzzzzzzzzzzzsteven.