You're Smiling Now But We'll All Turn Into Demons Contact High (Function)
4/5
By: Steve Rose
Would anybody care about Wooden Shjips, Dead Meadow or Black Mountain, if they hailed from Coventry? Norwich? Or even Portsmouth? The unfortunate answer is 'probably not'.
American grass always seems somewhat greener than our own musical undergrowth. Alas, this is the case for the psychedelic sounds of Pompey's favourite sons (Richie Troughton, Thomas Bone, Steve Hanby and Ryan Howarth), affectionately monikered 'Demons'. It's kind of laughable that the liquid modern seems tanked on a bunch of US bands that have 'started a movement', by rebranding and reiterating My Bloody Valentine, The Jesus and Mary Chain, and The Velvet Underground, whilst the rebirth of the essence of Black Sabbath in Portsmouth, slips under the 'Radar'.
These malevolent spirits 'fudge packin, crack smokin, satan worshippin, mother f**kin' fourth studio album, Contact High comes via London independent Function Records (who previously put out releases from Meet Me In St Louis and Cats & Cats & Cats) and is by far and a way the most accurate representation of their consciousness expanding live show, to date. Warm, heavy blues from the 'devils interval', obviously recorded locally in an old pagan church, with a pentagram on the floor and a goat’s skull on the wall above the drum kit. It sounds twisted, brutal and as 'circa Birmingham in the nineteen eighties', as contemporary space rock can - even more so than its psyche-pop predecessor, Black Demon Time, which was set to tape by baby faced Steven Ansell, of Blood Red Shoes fame.
As Plato said, "the beginning is the most important part of any work", and opening number, '2009' is a brilliant blueprint for the album. With a squall of pretty dissonance that wouldn't seem out of place on Sonic Youth's opus' Sister' or Evol, this eventually gives way to a Pitchfork/Hot Snakes-esque robust rhythmical chassis, brought to us via the primal pounding, of Demons' beat behemoth Ryan 'Howizter' Howarth. This raucous genesis combines the raw power and rippling muscle of 'Crime-era' proto-punk, with metallic doom-rock guitars, abstract, paranoid lyrics and The 13th Floor Elevators' penchant for epic songwriting with a uniquely palatable sonic texture.
'Nervous Alive' occupies a similar musical niche as its predecessor, if anything turning up the perceivable Yes influence, before melding into the swelling, syncopated onslaught of 'Alpha and Omega', marked with sharp dynamic contrasts. Mixing the cosmic doom of Sleep, with a sonic boom of Sabbath references, and an uncommon level of intensity, this seven minute psyche-rock monster will literally shred your face. After this another blistering, drone laden five minute barrage lays into you, before 'Out Of Focus' a minute and a half of pulchritudinous shoegaze disquietude, to sooth ones ears, and consciousness.
Again and again, Howarth's precision percussion kicks in. With trebly, jangly nuggets-style lightening guitar riffs, and psychobabble vocals for one of the albums standout tracks, 'Jamming On The Thirteenth Floor', which again hints at Sonic Youth, The Stooges, and Hot Snakes influences as much as it does garage rock and vintage rock'n'roll. The pre-penultimate track's supreme heaviness and melodic surf riffage, is almost overshadowed by the epicness of the closing track's nineteen minute long, unholy presence! ‘Prismatic Reflections’ pushes and pulls, like a Barrett-ian -style jam through a plethora of retro fuzz. It slowly gurgles along, growing and retreating, becoming somewhat akin to Bowie's excellent' album, The Man Who Sold The World, albeit with a slightly heavier, weirder, more hallucinogenic feeling. Some eight minutes into this epic final curtain, things take a rather unusual musical detour, where a cacophony of echoes, phasing and propitious dual guitar, draw influence from 'green days' in Portsmouth listening to Status Quo Records at the wrong speed.
An incredible, well worked out, pristinely played and accurately conveyed record, from a UK band that deserves more people to take notice of them and their reluctant rockstar-ism. Who cares what sh*t hole they call home? Portsmouth or Portland, makes no difference to me. A rose by another name etc, etc...With seemingly 'organic' music being in vogue this year; with American Apparel clad, 'fixie' riding, hipsters; and 'real' bands making a comeback, this band could be your life. This is DIY, but not like Los Campesinos! - this is proper music. People claiming 'The Horrors new record is the best British album for years, The Klaxons have recorded an as-of-yet unreleased prog-rock Odessy, and The Big Pink are the best British band since forever', should be listening to Contact High. Get it. Stick it to the man. Listen to a band the NME aren’t going to tell you about.
Artists in this article: You're Smiling Now But We'll All Turn In To Demons
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