Will we never learn? Well obviously not. Despite our editor having upped the Hood's medication, we still seem unable to convince him to join us on planet earth. Instead, we decided to let him loose on four more releases that seemed to both delight and disturb him in equal measure.
Tales from the Hood 2
Greetings from my secret island in the Humber. There's been a bit of a lull in my criminal mastermind activity this month while some essential decorating to the torture room is carried out. I just thought that shade of pastel lilac was too calming to have in there and have gone for a far more disturbing battleship grey. I've also fallen right out with the Russians since they put the price of depleted Uranium up. What a liberty! I've been trying to come up with a new way to generate the massive power needed for the monorail and death ray and have nearly perfected my perpetual motion technology. This involves Clive (my henchman, terrible name I know) strapping a common house cat's feet to the buttered side of a piece of toast. Then we drop the cat/toast combination from a platform. The laws of physics state the cat will always land on it's feet, whilst the toast will always land butter side down. This means as they fall neither can land, resulting in perpetually spinning toast/cat. Told you I was a genius didn't I? Now just to harness the power for my evil ends!
Anyhow, those cats (60's slang still rocking it in North East Lincolnshire) from Eartwister have sent some more hip grooves from a variety of beat combos for me and Clive to review, so here goes pop pickers!
Atlum Schema- 'Empire Of The Soul.'
We love all things Bowie here on Hood Island but imagine if The Thin White Duke were to have carnal knowledge of that other singing pipe cleaner, Richard Ashcroft. Their mewling, slimy love child might sound something like this.
Empire Of the Soul plods along in 'Hey Jude' time and fails to ignite in the same way a soggy Swan Vestas might. Clive liked the bit at the end, when the song stopped. Next!
Your Explosion My Mind- 'Eyeball Kick.'
Oh my lord. From the ridiculous to the utterly sublime. From the surging drums to the Kitchen Of Distinction (go on, look them up) wall of shimmering sound, Eyeball Kick grabbed Clive and I by our love truncheons and refused to let go. Not that this is all sheen and no substance. The song propels ever skyward from it's launch pad up to second stage boosters on that chorus and finally out of earth's gravitational pull with the guitar bit (I hate that word 'solo' unless it refers to Han and his sexy mate Chewbacca). There's so much energy I could run Hood Island's essential amenities off it. Bravo!
Crushing Blows- 'Hiding Place'/ 'You Will Always Be Lonely'
I have a theory that Crushing Blows may like a bit Arcade Fire every now and then. Just a hunch. Both songs on this double 'A' (yes, these tracks are being released on 7” vinyl, takes me back to the glory days of the Cold War!) wear the Winn Butler badges but there is a contrail of something authentic following on behind. Clive liked the urgency of both tracks,the drums clattering and the guitar chopping (then he is a simple soul). I would have liked a more defined melodic developement on the choruses, but I wouldn't kick these boys out of bed for farting. One to keep the Island's sophisticated listening devices aimed at I think.
Amongst The Pigeons- 'The Inherent Racism Of Doves'
Sometimes it's nice to receive a little oddity from the Eartwister people and this is just that. What starts as an everyday sweet acoustic twiddle is then trampled on by a lo fi loop sounding like Clive tumbling down the stairs in a tupperware suit. The vocal is an understated round and round and adds to the drip feed hypnosis of the overall sound. There's a nice sunny Bright Eyes type vibe tip-toeing through this, the melody floating like a wind up music box over a lightly jarring electronic pulse. We now pipe this through to the Hood Guards' sleeping quarters after a hard day's tyranny. Seems to calm them right down.
That's all from me till next time. Remember, resistance is futile, a bit like
Nick Clegg. Toodle Pip,