In their formative stages Broken Records racked up an impressive following, with their formidable live reputation preceding them to the extent that the build up leading to their highly anticipated debut album Until The Earth Begins To Part, left expectations exceedingly high.
Which in turn may go some way to explaining why it was met with a somewhat muted, if not underwhelming response from certain quarters of the press, who’d purportedly pathed the way for their supposed arrival… and in the process setting some indefinable and theoretical benchmark.
Either way those among us approaching it with an open mind will realise with repeated listens, further nuances and depths are their to be revealed, giving it an enduring and endearing quality.
So to the new EP, which indeed helps to add some retrospective vision on Broken Records inception, as this selection of home recordings, demo’s and b-sides committed to tape by longstanding sound engineer Simon Kasprowicz was given a limited release shortly before the Until The Earth Begins To Part recording session began, allowing a glimpse back at a band gathering steam and momentum.
‘Out On The Water’ opens in a manner reminiscent of an ominous Godspeed You! Black Emperor suite, string-laden and replete with portentous overtones casting a gloomy shadow, before momentarily subsiding as Jamie Sutherland’s ever dramatic tones herald the full band involvement, stirring up emotions and with it, stormy landscapes. By contrast ‘The Crumbling Wall’ has a jaunty Vivaldi accent mixed with Sigur Ros balladry proving an altogether more upbeat affair, but still harbouring forlorn romanticism. ‘Lessons Learnt’ has an Eastern European enthrall with reserved beauty, instrumentation is striped down to the essentials and Jamie’s trembling falsetto intones contribute to the lyrical lament. ‘A Warning’ once again feeds their fateful “End of Days” hankerings and as fits the territory, they wheel out the mournful cello and foreboding string with plaintive lyrics to match the tone: “My son take head from these empty words…believe me when I say, hold on to those who love you so, your own will grow with age” as the droning accordion and touches of poignant piano, pull at every heartstring, precipitating a quivering troubled tremble in the listener, emulated only by the string arrangements. Not lingering or wallowing in melancholy, ‘All So Tired’ is a sprightly spirited continental waltz with a brass injection, ending things on a high-note and containing the essence of a quintessential Amélie medley, making it the perfect piece to navigate the narrow, twisting turns of Parisian back-streets or just perk up your trudging journey to work
While proving a more stripped back affair from a band finding their feet, it in no way diminishes the beauty brandished by a an act made up of seven adept musicians with eclectic tastes, harnessing every influence and cultural element to hand, along with a sense of rooted heritage…it reminded you what was special about them in the first place.