Mr Olivetti puts typewriter to paper for this take on Coffin Years:
Azalea City penis Club – I remember catching the band at the Croft, years ago, supporting Numbers. I don’t remember much about the music, but I do recall being hugely entertained and a little disappointed that they had no merchandise. Now, some years later, this album comes along and what a listen it is. 8 tracks spread over what seems like an eternity, but is probably about an hour. Each song, however, appears to contain about three little songs, all welded together by monster riffing and an extraordinary drum assault. In fact, it’s their love of guitars & their place in a true experimental four piece rock band, which holds this album together like sun-cracked concrete.
Coffin Years is a veritable casserole of guitar, as with each track a different guitar style is offered up for our delectation. Track 1’s AC/DC meets Fall groove, with shouty vocals thrown in; the sun-bleached riffing and train across the desert insistent drumming of track 2; the loose slightly South American feel of track 4; folk-picking & a lovely airy vocal turn on track 6 and the frankly manic inspired 10+ minute album closer which sees the leaden guitars duel with the rhythm section, involving kettle drums at one point, as the band constantly try to kill the song off each time, the song lurches back to life like some horror film zombie, desperately trying to prevent silence regaining control.
To be honest, the rhythm section is right up to the job, especially on the wicked Sabbath wig-out on track 7. I think the secret to this album’s success besides the sheer audacity of taking so many styles and twisting them to their own devices, making the whole thing work, is that all this overload and excess is actually a cocoon for what is in essence the beating heart of the album, the first part of track 5. The most deliciously melancholic guitar notes are offset against the sweetest background feedback I’ve heard since Idaho. Deep, resonant bass chords and gentle cymbal work create the most fantastic atmosphere, a little misty, a little grey, but real and British. It’s finally overwhelmed by a rush of volume, but not before we have seen the true core of the band.
This is a great, visceral album, recommended to guitar lovers everywheeeeere.
Mr Olivetti
Azalea City penis Club – I remember catching the band at the Croft, years ago, supporting Numbers. I don’t remember much about the music, but I do recall being hugely entertained and a little disappointed that they had no merchandise. Now, some years later, this album comes along and what a listen it is. 8 tracks spread over what seems like an eternity, but is probably about an hour. Each song, however, appears to contain about three little songs, all welded together by monster riffing and an extraordinary drum assault. In fact, it’s their love of guitars & their place in a true experimental four piece rock band, which holds this album together like sun-cracked concrete.
Coffin Years is a veritable casserole of guitar, as with each track a different guitar style is offered up for our delectation. Track 1’s AC/DC meets Fall groove, with shouty vocals thrown in; the sun-bleached riffing and train across the desert insistent drumming of track 2; the loose slightly South American feel of track 4; folk-picking & a lovely airy vocal turn on track 6 and the frankly manic inspired 10+ minute album closer which sees the leaden guitars duel with the rhythm section, involving kettle drums at one point, as the band constantly try to kill the song off each time, the song lurches back to life like some horror film zombie, desperately trying to prevent silence regaining control.
To be honest, the rhythm section is right up to the job, especially on the wicked Sabbath wig-out on track 7. I think the secret to this album’s success besides the sheer audacity of taking so many styles and twisting them to their own devices, making the whole thing work, is that all this overload and excess is actually a cocoon for what is in essence the beating heart of the album, the first part of track 5. The most deliciously melancholic guitar notes are offset against the sweetest background feedback I’ve heard since Idaho. Deep, resonant bass chords and gentle cymbal work create the most fantastic atmosphere, a little misty, a little grey, but real and British. It’s finally overwhelmed by a rush of volume, but not before we have seen the true core of the band.
This is a great, visceral album, recommended to guitar lovers everywheeeeere.
Mr Olivetti
Comments
my inglish not good but I tried and I think what I got but he says to me you!