These Glasgow-based electro-punks have been plying their trade on the road for eight years now, but this self-titled album is the first time they’ve committed to the long-player format. They’ve gigged excessively in Europe and when you hear their muscular, industrial-leaning electronics it isn’t hard to guess why (I bet they kill in Belgium). The album supposedly “grapples with six different characters from history and fiction, musing on the ambiguities of human morality and the hidden lives some people lead” but you’d be hard pressed to guess that from even close listening. Luckily, the relentless power electronics don’t leave too much time for navel gazing.
The perfectly named first song, ‘Walter Peck’ (in homage to the wheedling EPA antagonist from Ghostbusters), immediately evokes the ’80s atmosphere that Roland synths and Oberheim drum machines will be forever tied to. But when the live drums enter, the rampaging begins and barely lets up for the next forty minutes or so. After a couple of songs in the firm mould of power electronics, ‘Cerimor’ is a welcome hit of guitars and drums high in the mix, though the synths are never far away. Heavily treated vocals get an airing here, but it won’t be until ‘Grimey’ or ‘DDDavid’ that you can actually make out any lyrics (and then only if you squint).
Benjamin Power aka Blanck Mass co-produced the album and his fingerprints are not so much sprinkled throughout, but fully embedded like a slap on a sunburn. Despite ‘Cerimor’s punky intro or the mid-section oohs and ahhs of ‘Grimey’, the ultimate destination is always an apocalyptic ravedown (‘Techno Viking’ and ‘Grimey’ being the best examples).
Each of the six tracks goes beyond the five minute mark, but closer ‘Cargo 200’ is closer to nine and wears its runtime well. It strays into more industrial territory early on, incorporating martial drums and more abrasive synths, letting vocal snippets get swallowed by percussive, swirling electronics and reverb to create a loose, almost collagist effect.
There may be a story hidden somewhere in there (and Frank McFadden’s cracking cover art is probably your best clue), but this is an album that hits the physical first and the cerebral second. Nothing for it but to surrender to the noise.