The end of November is nigh, and with it Mind Pool (Your New Band of Month)’s reign of terror comes to a close. Which means its time throw a few more bands into the coliseum to fight your undying love and devotion. The prospectus of contender’s for December’s title is just as high in quality and equally as eclectic as it’s been in previous months, so you’re bound to find something you love. Give the options a good listening over and find your new favourite band in the process.
Don’t forget to vote.
Inspired by the idea that the Earth’s moon once had itself a twin that orbited the planet at the same distance and speed for a few million years, before eventually being swallowed up by what today is our one and only moon. Lunar Twin are suitably nocturnal and ethereal in sound; the music of a lost celestial body – albeit it one that loves old school synths.
The duo, comprised of Chris Murphy and Bryce Boudreau, create an atmospheric and ambient backing allowing for their pulsating, minimalist house inspired rhythms and melancholy piano progressions to drift along, lost in space. Atop this spacious and astronomical sombre synthscape, sit brooding and considered vocals akin to a more contemplative Mark Lanegan.
I’m not gonna fuck about with this one. I’m going to keep this as cut and concise and straight to the point, no messing about, as the band themselves do. I’m not even going to talk about dinosaurs, because band name, even though you and me both know that we’d love for me to talk about dinosaurs right now. I’m not being to the point, am I?
Sauropod are a three-piece hailing from Oslo, and they rain down slabs of off kilter rock like it’s nobody’s business. Managing to brandishing brash punk, gut punching grunge, a twist of psychedelic and noise rock mania, but shot through with power-pop and indie rock. This is usually all at the same time in the space of compact pop song. Sauropod manage to be dinosaur heavy, outright manic, and catchy as all fuck simultaneously.
Psychedelia and folk are two genres that often sit side by side, probably passing a joint back and forth or meditating. This predominantly has a lot to do with simultaneous explosions of both during the 60s of course, and the eventual blurring of the lines between them both. However, bands that are often kissed with the label of both usually fall headlong and heavy into one more than the other.
Wovoka Gentle, though, are a prime example of the perfect and equal distillation of both those simultaneously, but in such a way as to not sound pastiche or retro. Wovoka Gentle have that 60s folk and psychedelic spirit, but this is a dizzying and contemporary strain. The three seamlessly deliver stunning vocal harmonies, folk traditions and instrumentation, psychedelia’s surreal twists and trippy peripheral extras, with experimental progressions and a modern sensibility of song-writing. Wovoka Gentle’s is a kaleidoscopic collage of a sound, but it is so inherently dreamy that is frequently beautiful, and always inviting.
Upon listening to InTechnicolour, I began to wonder if Brighton had been smote by some biblical fire and brimstone recently, leaving nothing but a barren landscape scorched by the sun, and it had somehow escaped the attention of the media. I mean, I hadn’t heard about it, but then I hear this Brighton-based four piece – comprised of members of Physics House Band, Delta Sleep, and Porshyne – and I have to wonder.
InTechnicolour churn up the kind of slackened and rumbling low-end riffs that growl with the desert sun. There’s a strong desert rock presence, uh, present in the atmosphere of InTechnicolour’s music, from the sandstorm crashes of the drums, the thirst strained vocals, the earth shaking bass, and those mammoth riffs. It’s not all slackened stoner grooves though, because InTechnicolour bring a technicality and frenetic edge beyond the baked, but also an explosive sense of accessible melody.
I don’t presume to know what field of knowledge Real Experts are real experts in exactly, but I would have to assume that it is most likely classic synthpop. Now, sure, I may be way off track, and it may well be Icelandic marriage laws in the 14th century or Japanese horticulture. However, on the basis of this London-based electronic outfit’s sound, I’d have to say mine is a pretty educated guess.
The musical collective is the brainchild of one Andrew Maley, and features a tradition of a revolving door policy when it comes to vocalists when it comes to tracks. This allows for the group’s core sound to mutate accordingly with the characteristics of the singers, who in turn are vocalising the internal emotion of the compositions. Aesthetically there’s the classic cold and contemporary cool of heartfelt and sorrowful synth pop, but with an underlying warmth that permeates out.