Review: Shortstraw's Good Morning, Sunshine

This review was originally published in Perdeby on 20 May 2013.

***

“Woooo, woooo, you’re such a bitch in the morning,” sings Shortstraw frontman Alastair Thomas, launching a sputter of insults on “Good Morning, Sunshine”, the title track of their second offering.

Similar to their debut album, You’re Underfed, I’m Wonderful, it’s a collection of songs that conjure hair-whipping, hip-thrusting, booty-jiggling jiving that is so wrong that it’s right. Why? Simple. It’s practically impossible not to.

But don’t make a mistake in thinking Shortstraw’s sound has remained stagnant this time around. While Good Morning, Sunshine may still be doused with droll lyrics, it also reveals more introspective wordsmithing, the type that only sinks in later when you find yourself belting songs out in tedious traffic or when you’re elbow-deep in a sink of grimy dishes.

“Couch Potato” lambasts a generation of square-eyed youth who spend their lives in front of the TV, while “Cold Shoulder” admits that “There’s a wounded soldier to mend / So hold me closer tonight.”

And then there’s “LCBSS”, with its contrite chorus: “Sorry for everything / Sorry for everything else too / Sorry for the disappointment / Sorry for the fact that you’re alone / Life can be so shitty sometimes / I can be so shitty sometimes.”

Shortstraw is well aware of the value of putting swear words in the chorus of a song. People sing louder, as if collective cussing somehow gives the proverbial middle finger to everything that irks them in life: the neighbour’s podgy pooch that yelps at all hours, the ever-increasing petrol price, the fact that the Guptas landed their plane where they weren’t supposed to.

The familiar punch of fun is supplied by tracks like “127 Hours”, a song about that awkward moment when you see someone for the first time after some one-night loving.

“Mo Money”, a collaboration with rapper Zubz, is a hedonistic celebration of hitting the bar with an inhibition-less girl (“Now fill up your cup, it’s getting empty / You’re getting drunk, I’m getting thirsty”), while “Gimme My Fix (It’s Only Recreational)” is a song about how a person can be addictive (“Snap back, heart attack / You’re just like a ticket to the sun”).

“The Wedding Blues” is, perhaps, a song that finds itself somewhere in the middle, featuring Desmond & The Tutus frontman Shane Durrant as the best man rapping an embarrassing speech. It pokes fun at the convention of getting married, while at the same time pleading for you not to take it too seriously.

Does Shortstraw completely manage to translate their live energy, made all the more palpable by guitarist Tom Revington, into their recorded material? Not entirely, but this is only in praise of their live performances, which have morphed into high-octane spectaculars that prove that Shortstraw is a band to keep a beady eye on.

Listen to Good Morning, Sunshine below and then head on over to Shortstraw's Bandcamp page to download the album at a price of your choosing.

 


Read the interview I did with Shortstraw here. 

The Shining Girls: Beukes's constellation of murder

This review was originally published in Perdeby on 6 May 2013.

A tweet about a time-travelling serial killer is the saucy idea behind Lauren Beukes’s new novel. After her lightbulb moment, the darling of South African modern fiction quickly deleted the tweet and promptly got to work on The Shining Girls. 

Set in Chicago, it tells the story of Harper Curtis, a twisted, despicable sort of man who stumbles upon a house that allows him to travel through time. He uses it to stalk and kill “the shining girls”, women who beam gloriously with potential. 

When one of his victims survives, Harper’s plan unravels horribly. With the help of cynical sports hack Dan Velasquez, gutsy Kirby Mazrachi doggedly tries to find the man who almost took her life and she won’t let anything stop her. What ensues is a grim, disturbing tale about a serial killer’s insatiable bloodlust and what happens when the roles of the hunter and the hunted become violently entangled. 

Each chapter of The Shining Girls is told from a different person’s perspective, providing a ticket to the inner workings of every character’s mind. We learn that the kooky Kirby is deeply frayed by her kiss with death and this triggers her unrelenting mission to find her would-be killer. Beukes offers another strong female protagonist, much like the flawed Zinzi December in Zoo City, who ultimately displays quite heroic and admirable qualities. 

Lauren Beukes reading an extract from The Shining Girls. 

In this way, we also co-inhabit Harper’s perverse mind. This insight into what makes him tick and what fuels his killing spree through the decades offers a refreshing take on the archetype serial killer because Harper is in no way glamorised. Throughout the novel, there is no doubt that he is an appalling human being and this makes him all the more frightening. 

Similarly, the deaths of Harper’s victims aren’t glamorised either. Beukes devotes at least one chapter to each victim, which allows their minds to be interrogated. The focus is more on their lives and what made them shine, rather than their grisly deaths. 

At the heart of it, The Shining Girls is a novel about violence against women and how this violence has a ripple effect through a community, even though the extent to which it is a socially corrective can be debated. It’s a novel that reflects who we are and interrogates the present by transporting us to an alternate world that is, in many ways, not too different from our own. This is perhaps a difficult pill to swallow, but The Shining Girls is the sweet spoonful of sugar that helps the bitter medicine go down.

The Hollow Body: Johannine review

This review was originally published in Perdeby on 15 April 2013.

***

                                                                                                                          COVER ART: photo taken by Luca Vincenzo

“You say drinking from my cup feeds your soul/ Fills you up/ If drinking from my cup makes you whole/ Then why did you stop?” croons Cape Town folk musician Jonathan Velthuysen gently on “Holly (You Gotta Wonder)”. His almost puzzled delivery of the last line is moving, as if through his subtle probing, he is trying to make sense of the unexpected end of a relationship.

It is piercingly personal lyrics like this that take centre stage on Velthuysen’s debut album Johannine and for his first offering, the man who goes by the name of The Hollow Body has put together a collection of songs that is stripped down of all pretence and treated, instead, with layers of intensely personal reflection.

Together with his scratchy, sometimes nasal voice and the sparse musical accompaniment provided by the warm, rollicking strum of his guitar, Velthuysen delivers an album that will more than delicately tickle the fancy of folk lovers.

The thing is, Velthuysen’s lyrics aren’t just unabashedly honest. They are delicately crafted words of poetry too and he uses this songwriting process to purge himself of all the things that life has thrown at him.

“Hymnal Retreat” is a tender elegy written for Velthuysen’s father who passed away some years ago. The uncluttered intro sees him admitting that he is weighed down by the sorrow that he carries on his shoulders and the misery on his brow and that he doesn’t know if he can move forward. His solution? “And maybe someday/ Through these lullabies/ I’ll see clearly my way back home,” he intones gingerly before the track becomes more jaunty as the pace quickens.

On “For Tonight”, Velthuysen’s voice echoes that of The Tallest Man on Earth as he sings about the intoxicating and sometimes dangerous hold that someone can have on you, while on “Don’t Mistake It”, he lowers his voice to a soft, low purr that breaks into an impassioned plea at the climax.

Johannine is the kind of album that you want to listen to in a steaming bath with a glass of wine. It’s the kind of album that stops being just a collection of songs as it begs you to engage with it. It’s the kind of album that allows you to mould your own meaning around this phrasing or that guitar growl. In fact, it’s the best kind of album.

RATING: 8/10

Read the interview I did with The Hollow Body here. 

Review: Beast's "Smoke Swig Swear"

Here's the review I did of Beast's debut album, Smoke Swig Swear for Perdeby. Published on 18 February 2013.

Taxi Violence drummer Louis Nel and guitarist Rian Zietsman wondered what a rock band would sound like if they ditched the electric guitar and had two basses instead. They plugged one of the basses into a guitar amp creating, rather ingeniously, a quick, formidable punch of grunge-laden rock ‘n’ roll.

They needed an indispensable backbone for their sound and so invited drummer Sasha Righini of The Plastics fame to join them. Knowing they wanted a female vocalist, Nel and Zietsman then approached Lark’s mesmeric siren, Inge Beckmann, to polish off their creation.

The result of this deliciously dark sonic experiment? The musically brazen creature that is Beast was unleashed.

Now, after teasing audiences around the country with their ferocious sound, they have finally released their free debut album, Smoke Swig Swear.

“And all the idols will topple over / And the fair maidens will be reformed / And all the men will know their worth when earth implodes,” intones Beckmann menacingly on “Hand of God”, an ill-omened foreboding about the wicked ways of mankind.

On “Fill The Hole”, we are introduced to a boisterous Beckmann who masterfully manipulates her usual operatic voice to scream and howl, to yelp and shout. The song also uncovers the hypnotic front woman’s impeccable songwriting skills in a series of chilling commands that are set against an aggressive force of guitars.

Title track of the album “Smoke Swig Swear” takes you on a contemplative stroll through town while “Walls” is a vertigo-inducing guitar frenzy that speaks of a self-consuming desire for freedom as Beckmann incites, “Kick down the door. Make space for more and rise.”

Make no mistake in thinking that you will find sweet songs that encourage a forest of swaying lighters on Smoke Swig Swear. It’s all about frenetic slabs of raw, unadulterated music that grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you savagely before delivering a stinging slap across the face and heading for the door.

Beast is the sound of brooding in a bar that smells of stale cigarettes and beer-infused sweat, the sound of waking up in a bizarre place the next day, and the sound of no regret.

It’s hot and it’s dirty, and best of all, it’s a command to let loose and indulge in some guiltless abandon.

RATING: 8.5/10

The Plastics: Pyramid album review

“I’ll guess you’re a king for a day if you can take me back to nineteen sixty eight,” announces lead singer Pascal Righini on “Stereo Kids”, The Plastics’ highly contagious single that’s been doing the rounds for over a year now. A fairy godfather in the form of John Lennon isn’t going to cure The Plastics’ longing for a bygone era, so they’re doing the job themselves with Pyramid, their second full-length offering of retro rock and roll.

On Pyramid, the kooky quartet up the psychedelic ante, thanks to their new-found interest in experimenting with effects pedals. The best example of this is on “Mud and Money”, the impressive 10-minute spectacular that’s almost like a paean to The Beatles as it winds through different moods. They may not be doing the psychedelic thing throughout the album, but when they do it, especially on “Mud and Money”, The Plastics go all out.

There’s the trippy, filthy fuzz of the electric guitar and different effects that one minute sound like an alien landing is taking place and the next, like a ballerina sweetly prancing on the moon. And then there are the surreal, seemingly disjointed lyrics (“Plasticine scheme team cooked up on roofis that make orange people see into the hearts and the minds and the dreams in your bed”) which do a good job of reminding you of The Beatles’ “I Am the Walrus”. Lennon composed the song by combining three songs that he had been working on, which is rather fitting as The Plastics also combined what they had come up with after numerous lengthy jam sessions to form “Mud and Money”.  

“Rat”, easily the heaviest song on the album, has a slightly dark tone with Pascal’s drawn out vocals and menacing lyrics. It brings to mind Oasis, with its gargantuan stadium rock sound and fiery acid guitar solos.

The psychedelic-infused tracks aside, Pyramid offers more of what The Plastics are also good at: melodious pop rock tunes that make it okay to whip out your freakish dance moves in public. 

“Out of This Town” is a song about inevitable change and the yearning to escape, and has hints of the glockenspiel, while “Sooner Than Later” speaks of anguish thanks to a girlfriend that’s now a girl fiend. There’s also “Best Pretenders”, which is currently sailing the airwaves smoothly with it’s simple but altogether charming chorus of “I’m 45 minutes too late/ I’m 45 minutes too early”.

Still sounding like themselves, The Plastics have taken a step forward in the way of experimentation but thankfully, it’s not a whopping leap that will leave fans behind in a state of perplexed turmoil. In fact, it might even earn them some new ones.  

• Read the interview I did with The Plastics here. 

Review: Tailor- The Dark Horse

As the sweet, dainty Melanie Le Roux straps on her guitar and stands behind a towering microphone, she morphs into a fierce and commanding puppet master who skillfully clutches the strings of her voice to display an astounding control of it. She can manipulate it from a whisper to a howl, from a purr to a growl. It can be deep and coy, sly and syrupy, fragile and wild.

This is Le Roux’s stage presence, the enthralling antithesis that is Tailor.

The Pretoria-born, Cape Town-based singer-songwriter also uses her debut album, The Dark Horse, to channel a number of powerful female vocalists. On the bluesy/folk “Love Anthem” she displays the vocal intensity of Florence Welch. On “Where The Boys Are” it’s KT Tunstall’s bashful purr, while on the upbeat but sinister “Indian” it’s PJ Harvey’s powerful, ethereal cries. And then, with the experimental “Alive” it’s Alanis Morissette. Tailor’s dark, heavy tone allows her to change the texture of the notes from shadowy and thick to a more husky sound. Her voice twists in agony to deliver a theatrical masterpiece.

“My faith was your faith and you let me go / You ripped my heart and then you took out my soul,” declares Tailor in “My Faith”, a song with a slow, ominous quality that’s emphasised by the soothing drone of the cello. Tailor’s authoritative voice, coupled with a distressed wailing in the background, chillingly reminds you of damned souls floating around in a mythological underworld.

“Why Don’t You Love Me?” is an exquisitely layered country-esque number that starts off simply, with only Tailor’s stark vocals. Add a spot of acoustic guitar and a drizzle of rhythmic drums and the pace accelerates to express her frustration, while repetitively questioning, “Why don’t you love me?”

You get the sense that every time Tailor sings, she is overcome with the same emotions as when she first wrote the song. While the sincerity is appreciated, and adds a certain kind of depth to many of the songs on The Dark Horse, like the piano-driven “Shaped Like a Gun”, this overdose of emotion comes close to a cheesy Celine Dion-like ballad that will make couples’ lips lock and singletons whip out their lighters, swaying from side to side.

Despite this, it’s interesting that the album is entitled The Dark Horse, especially because it in no way conceals Tailor’s abilities and potential for success. In fact, it launches her straight into it.

• This review was originally published in Perdeby on 22 October 2012. 

Review: Zebra & Giraffe- The Wisest Ones

This review was first published in Perdeby on 15 October 2012. 

“Why don’t I know the answers? / Why don’t I know the truth? / Why do I feel like this is all I do?” asks an incensed Greg Carlin on “I’ll Blame You”, the first single off Zebra & Giraffe’s third album. He’s perplexed, resentful and slightly menacing, and he’s letting everyone know it with the beautifully crafted, if slightly disturbing, lyrics he pens on The Wisest Ones. 

On “All I Gave”, an eerie lament, Carlin slyly declares, “I wrote the book on how to give a fuck and fuck you too” while “Little Black Book” sees him calmly stating, “I’ve been waiting for your teeth/ To sink into my gut/ And make me bleed.” 

This is Carlin as we’ve never seen him before. On The Wisest Ones, he explores the dark side of love: when you love the wrong person or, even worse, when you love the right person imperfectly. 

And then there’s songs like “Sons”, which is like a letter to Carlin’s brother after their parents got divorced many years ago. “Look at our father/ He’s lying in the corner/ At home/ Please give him water/ And watch his as he drowns/ Alone,” he sings candidly. 

You get the sense that, with The Wisest Ones, Carlin is letting it all out. It’s the equivalent of him sitting on a bulky red couch in a shrink’s office, relaying his woes, and you can’t help but be grateful that he is brave enough to share it with you. 

But, this is not the only noticeable change on the SAMA-winning electronic indie rockers’ latest record. Without someone solely devoted to the keyboards this time round, Zebra & Giraffe have used The Wisest Ones to experiment with a rawer, dirtier guitar-driven sound. 

“Yesterday” starts off with a bristly riff and culminates in a mass of pent up guitar anger that the band has been hiding all this time; while a wailing guitar stands out on “Denied” and “You’re Nothing To Me”.  

The jagged synth/guitar-created opening of “Sick” sounds like a rabid disease spreading rapidly, with Carlin warning, “I’ll make you sick/ Try not be fooled/ I’m damaged goods/ I’ll eat the good inside you”. 

They’re good at this new sound. So good. A far cry from The Inside, and an even further one from their debut album, Collected Memories, Zebra & Giraffe have finally come into their own. While many fans won’t take to the band’s dark metamorphosis and might feel uncomfortable because of the stark lyrics, The Wisest Ones speaks of a willingness to try something new and refreshing, and Zebra & Giraffe should be applauded for doing just that. 

• Read the interview I did with Zebra & Giraffe when they performed at Arcade Empire on the Pretoria leg of their The Wisest Ones tour.  

Review: Two Door Cinema Club (Beacon)

A review I did of Two Door Cinema Club's second album, Beacon, for Perdeby. 

Published on 17 September 2012. 

When Two Door Cinema Club exploded onto the indie circuit with the release of their debut album, Tourist History, geeks around the globe rejoiced triumphantly. Suddenly, it was cool to be a gawky, pasty-legged teenager donning a woolly jersey. And, better yet, the band’s guitar-laced synth pop became even cooler. Now, after two years of whirlwind touring and securing somewhat of a cult following along the way, the cherub-faced Irish trio have released their highly anticipated second studio album, Beacon.
If it’s Two Door Cinema Club’s addictive sing-along choruses and frenetic guitar riffs that you fell in love with the first time around, then you will be pleased that the band’s sound remains largely unchanged, except of course for U2 producer Jacknife Lee working his magic to deliver a more polished body of work.
Prominent electronics underpin a playful, repetitive guitar riff in “Wake Up”, a song narrating a dream. “Goodnight, daylight / I won’t remember you for long,” sings lead singer Alex Trimble sluggishly, as if to emphasise that we are very much a part of someone’s stray into slumber.
“The World is Watching” is a wispy love song in which English songstress Valentina contributes her pure, delicate voice, while “Sun” is a slower, piano-led number which refreshingly includes a brass section midway through the track. But it is on “Sleep Alone” that all these elements seem to come to a head in an epic battle for your attention. The ear-throbbing cacophony that ensues proves that less sometimes really is more.
Two Door Cinema Club are well aware of the ingredients needed to produce flop-proof, unwittingly catchy tunes, and they are making the most of this tried and tested recipe. By doing little to veer away from it, the songs that make up Beacon risk melting into one indistinguishable track. One area, however, that the band does experiment with, is their lyrical content. The inevitable isolation that arises from constantly being on tour is explored in many of the tracks on the album. “I don’t know where I am going to rest my head tonight,” sings Trimble on “Next Year”, while on “Settle”, he declares, “This isn’t home / This isn’t home / I couldn’t feel more alone.”

While Two Door Cinema Club avoid suffering the fatal second album slump, Beacon is not an album which tells the story of musical progression. The band chooses to stick with what is familiar to them and their audiences, which, while not being incredibly exciting, is not necessarily a bad thing. You can’t help but wonder that only when Two Door Cinema Club finally start taking a gamble, will they hit jackpot and reach their full potential.

Review: Lucy Kruger (Cut Those Strings)

Published in Perdeby on 10 September 2012.

“So dance dance little puppet to the rhythm of their shallow heart beat and remember / It’s catchy phrases that sell,” croons Lucy Kruger soothingly in the chorus of “Catchy Phrases”, the opening song on her debut album Cut Those Strings. “If you could show me how to cut those strings / If you could teach me how to really sing,” she reflects at the end of the track, capturing her struggle to make it in the music industry without selling her soul to the seductive devil of commercialism. And that’s what makes Kruger distinctive. She cuts the stifling strings of convention to produce a refreshing, eleven-track album that boasts collaborations with some of South Africa’s most illustrious musos such as Schalk Joubert, Inge Beckmann and Albert Frost.
The newcomer’s sound can be described as indie folk with a dollop of rock but the task of genre-allocating seems trivial, especially on Cut Those Strings, where the spotlight shines directly on Kruger’s smooth, velvety voice and honest, intensely personal lyrics.
Lark and Beast frontwoman Inge Beckmann contributes her signature hypnotic wail to “I’ll Sing For You”. The sound of the mesmeric sirens joining forces on the track makes it difficult not to picture the two sitting on a rocky coast, luring in their listeners one by one.
“Fired Up” is a more up-tempo and edgy song with Kruger belting and growling the lyrics in a way that echoes KT Tunstall’s organic vocal strength. The track also has a slightly bluesy feel to it, with the inclusion of one of Albert Frost’s spine-tingling guitar twangs.
The chilling acoustic number “Heart of Stone” starts off with the sweet, affable sound of the guitar which quietly becomes more eerie and ominous. “Going along / Singing this song / Banging out the words like a newborn drum,” sings Kruger rhythmically on the track, as if to emulate the drums she is speaking about.
It is quite amazing to conceive what the fledgling musician has achieved in such a short space of time, having only graduated from Rhodes University last year. If Cut Those Strings is anything to go by, Kruger will have no problem in swiftly developing a plumage that many musicians can only yearn for.

RATING: 7/10

Review: Ashtray Electric (WTF)

Here's my review of the new Ashtray Electric EP, WTF. My only criticism, I think, is that it is too short. Published in Perdeby on 10 September 2012. 

 
When SAMA-nominated indie rockers Ashtray Electric decided to release their EP, WTF, they followed a rather atypical route. To begin with, the band produced, recorded, engineered and mixed their fourth offering themselves. They then used the increasingly popular method of fan-sourcing to find a designer for the album cover, which features an ill-fated white rodent being drenched in water. Ashtray Electric also encouraged fans to sign up for the album, which they received in their inbox for free as a little digital gift when WTF was released. The result of these unconventional ways is a concise, tightly produced array of intimate tracks which form the B-side to their second full length album, Measured in Falls.
WTF opens with the mournful wail of the distorted guitar on “Lost”, the eerie first song on the album. “I feel lost in the joy / It’s too quick to enjoy,” sings lead singer Andre Pienaar woefully. This sad, otherworldly feeling created in the introduction culminates in what sounds like Pienaar’s voice exploding into an inescapable abyss.
The pace of the album quickens on “One”, a lively, head-bobbing, shoulder-grooving track complete with the sound of a sharp, cracking whip before the chorus. It makes way for “Looper”, the gem amongst the jewels that make up the treasure chest that is WTF. The song is like a piece of performance poetry, with Pienaar reciting the lyrics, thus allowing his natural stutter to take centre stage against a musical backdrop. It starts off with staccato-like drums that echo Pienaar’s erratic flow of speech which follows. The track is a brave, innovative and personal addition to the album.
“DJ” is a stripped-down, minimalistic song which showcases only Pienaar’s voice and the keyboard. With lyrics such as “Walked into the club tonight and I stopped and stared and I worked my way up to your thigh / You are my weakness”, this is the raw and sexy Ashtray Electric fans are familiar with.
The quick pounding of the drums on “Go” introduces the final track on the album. The song is like a predator on the hunt in a threatening jungle, with Pienaar’s vocals inciting the attack.
“I’m gonna go,” he repeatedly pants to build up the climax, a burst of sound which can leave Ashtray Electric licking their lips smugly, knowing that “Go”, like the rest of WTF, has tactically ensnared the listener.

RATING: 9/10

Review: December Streets (This Is)

This is a review I did of December Streets debut album, This Is, for Perdeby. It was published on 27 August 2012.

 “I know we are free, where we want to be. I know we are free, living enough to be,” chant indie rockers December Streets collectively in the climax of “Coming Home”, the first song off their debut album. With unabating energy, “Coming Home”, as well as the rest of the songs on This Is, speaks of carefree splendour and uninhibited fun. The album is composed of catchy, feel-good pop tunes that include scatterings of ska, courtesy of the jovial trumpet and saxophone which weave a gold thread through all 15 tracks.
December Streets are masters of creating tunes that radio listeners have no problem gobbling up enthusiastically. Uncomplicated melodies and easly remembered lyrics have ensured that tracks such as “Fire Through The Window” and “My Name” have enjoyed extensive airplay on 5FM as well as TuksFM. These tracks have been re-recorded on This Is along with new material.
The African-inspired “Wazungu” is probably the most experimental song, with December Streets sticking to their tried and tested formula for creating party anthems. “Sing, sing, sing with me,” commands lead singer Tristan Coetzee and despite some resistance, you can’t help but do just that.
The chorus of “Got That Feeling” is reminiscent of retro indie rockers The Plastics. Nico Van Loggerenberg’s lead guitar stands out in this track and is an asset that could have elevated the album’s soundscape substantially if it were used more.
“Who Needs Shoes” starts off with a laidback reggae vibe before the pace quickens with the addition of the trumpet. The song is punctuated by Coetzee’s “whoa-oh’s”, which seem to make a frequent and slightly irksome appearance on the album.
December Streets have just enough ska in them to make you want to groove to their music, and just enough pop in them to make them accessible to commercial audiences. But that’s the thing about the songs on This Is: they are just enough. You will find yourself tapping your fingers on the steering wheel in traffic when they play, but once you get to your destination, they ultimately become forgettable.

RATING: 6/10

Review: Bloc Party (Four)

This is a review I did on Bloc Party's new album, Four, for Perdeby. It was published on 3 September 2012. 

British post-punk indie rockers Bloc Party are back from their four-year hiatus after releasing their rather unimaginatively titled fourth studio album, Four. This time around, it seems as if the quartet has come full circle, with the tracks on the album sounding more like the guitar-driven splendour that made them famous on their debut album, Silent Alarm. Since Silent Alarm’s release in 2005, Bloc Party slowly started moving away from what gave them their distinct sound and started experimenting with electronic elements which culminated in their less-than-desirable third album, Intimacy.
But there is a twist in this resurrection tale. While Four relaunches Bloc Party’s signature sound, it also includes piercing, pulse-pounding metal influences that ooze off the faster tracks on the album.
“Three times three/ First cut first/ Pierce the skin/ It binds us,” whispers lead singer Kele Okereke menacingly on “3×3”, one of the more sinister tracks on the album. The song builds up with Okereke spurting out the chorus in a vocal style very similar to that of System Of A Down’s Serj Tankian.
“We Are Not Good People” is another one of Bloc Party’s heavier songs. A frenzied, aggressive guitar solo delivers an angry punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless but wanting, like a hard-headed teenage boy, to pick yourself up only to go back for more. The track showcases some of the band’s more lacklustre lyrics such as, “With these five lines you will be reborn/ A superman or maybe a jock/ You can crush the whole world in your hand/ If you wanna.” But, then again, Bloc Party has never been known for their profound lyrics, a flaw that has always been masked by the band’s impeccable guitar work and Okereke’s vocal ability. Then, as if you’re listening to a completely different band, Four surprises with a selection of slower, more mellow pop songs. With jagged guitar riffs interspersed with Okereke’s sharp falsetto and a jaw-dropping guitar solo, “Octopus” is a stand-out song on the album.
“Real Talk” transports you to Venice Beach à la Red Hot Chili Peppers with its groove influences and yet another one of Okereke’s chilling falsettos. These two contrasts in Four make the album seem a bit all over the place, as if it lacks some sort of cohesion.
Nevertheless, Bloc Party is back and they are making sure that everyone knows it. Four is an album that grabs you by the shoulders, shakes you violently and then kisses you softly on the cheek, as if to apologise for the slightly confusing listening experience it provided.
Bloc Party will be performing in Johannesburg at Mary Fitzgerald Square on 5 October at the launch of In The City Jo’burg, an annual event bringing international acts to the City of Gold. They will also be headlining Rocking The Daisies in Cape Town between 4 and 7 October.

RATING: 7/10