Forty years young, The Nightingales are back with a storming album. Perish The Thought is a sharp and saturated beast wrapped in a lush baroque of a cover full of rich flora, that if you stare hard enough is a garden full of death, subtly strangled in barb wire. The Crass-like eye-popping photo-montage of the inlaytoo (is that Elvis floating above tenements?), groping towards the genius of the contents. In all honesty, I was expecting a jangling shimmer of indie, but was thrown a ballsy swagger that shines that extra mile, a vibe that soaks up loads of influences, but infinitely arrows from a league of its own.
“Wrong Headed Man” sets the bite, for the runaway Pere Ubus of “The World And His Wife” to take the reins with its taut rhythmics and syllabled cymbals. “Enemy Of Promise”continues the amusement in a psychobilly choppiness to a nagging narrative (of words that shun cliché). Definitely NOT troughing from the nostalgia nosebag, this is spiky and intense, dishing out an over-driven kiss that floods, bristles assertively with crazy gear changes that juggle the pyroclastic flow, keeping you attentively on your toes. Fliss Kitson‘s frenetic drums stapling a gorgeous counter to that growling delivery of Robert Lloyd, her vocals silking up the sensation as the lyrics glow in manic sing-along-ability and James Smith‘s guitars churn up the firmament.
Piratical and panoramic, there’s an awful lot to love. The coug’n’splutter comicals of “Eventually”. “Big Dave” is an ode to a much-missed friend of Robert’s that has Lovely Eggs’ Holly Blackwell supplying the guest vocal charms. The Cardiacs canter of “Zero At The Bone” charging out on wood block hooves. The final blistering swan-song of “It Is” that sees Faust’s Hans-Joachim Irmler drowning the Emily Dickinson lyrical spill in plenty of wayward scorch.
Perish The Thought is an absolute pleasure that’s well worth your attention.
Electrowerkz, London 26 February 2016 Visiting London’s Electrowerkz in 2016 after spending far too many nights here at the legendary Slimelight in […]
This website uses cookies , because that's what websites do. None of the cookies used here are for nefarious purposes, but you can opt-out of their usage if you prefer.AcceptRejectRead More
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Forty years young, The Nightingales are back with a storming album. Perish The Thought is a sharp and saturated beast wrapped in a lush baroque of a cover full of rich flora, that if you stare hard enough is a garden full of death, subtly strangled in barb wire. The Crass-like eye-popping photo-montage of the inlaytoo (is that Elvis floating above tenements?), groping towards the genius of the contents. In all honesty, I was expecting a jangling shimmer of indie, but was thrown a ballsy swagger that shines that extra mile, a vibe that soaks up loads of influences, but infinitely arrows from a league of its own.
