Sans Froid are a Bristol-based outfit operating profoundly out of step with contemporary trends. Frenetic math-rock jaggedness mixed with the soaring ambition of prog? Add in some vocals that recall Björk at her wailingest with neuroses-laced lyrics? Whatever your view of this mini-album, you can’t knock it for originality.
I haven’t seen Sans Froid live, but I can only imagine that Aisling Rhiannon is incredibly busy. Her vocals warp and wind through every sinew of these songs, at the same time that her minor keys develop and drive the dread-filled atmosphere. Split in Two gets double points for a dread-filled opening line, asking “Do you feel worthy?” Anxious pattering peppers the ode to staying in, ‘Planket’ (“To use pillows from a couch as a blanket when cold and sleeping” – thanks Urban Dictionary) and ‘The Still’ manages to evoke nervous energy in extremis with its zig-zagging piano lines (apt for its fretful tale).
As impressive as a lot of these arrangements are, you can’t help but feel that a little more time to stretch out would have been a bonus. At only seven proper songs (+ intro) and a half hour, there’s barely time to get stuck into the intricate and overlapping musical choices. The claustrophobic fog caused by these overstuffed songs is a neat piece of mirroring with the lyrical choices, which range from the existential (‘The Still’) to the specific (‘Gammons’), but are generally concerned with our ignorant, arrogant and cruel contemporary society.
That isn’t to say Sans Froid are humourless (see: ‘Planket’, the video for ‘Gammons’), but ‘Hello, Boil Brain’ has a lot of big things to say, a lot of big musical swings, and not much time to get through everything. The brevity, along with the keening vocals, mean that the nuanced message often gets lost amidst the overbearing whole. Letting it wash over you is pleasant enough, but a little more space for the subtleties to shine would elevate this debut album to the next level.