Ah, that difficult third album. Although, for many bands, it’s the second release that presents problems. So it is/was for the Kilsyth three-piece. Following the acclaimed debut Fourteen Autumns And Fifteen Winters, whose its walls of sound and impassioned vocals made for a stunning debut, it was the element of surprise as much as the song craft which saw the band make such a universal impact – sure, elements of Joy Division and Mogwai with a thickly-accented Scot emoting over the top may not sound that unusual, but anyone from the current musical generation would have been blown away sonically and emotionally, while older listeners got the chance for a pick’n’mix grab bag of influences from alt.rock’s lineage.
Of course, sophomore effort Forget The Night Ahead kind of retreaded this path and in doing so, without that surprise element or songs as impressive as those on the debut, fell flat. Something had to be done.
And the band have indeed managed to reinvent themselves and deliver an album that is on a par with their debut, but quite quite different. Yes, they do draw on the 80s again, but rather than the obvious wall of post rock associated with the band the sound is more stripped back, with analog synth noises. In fact, guitarist Andy McFarlane compiled a couple of mixtapes which show his influences when recording this album. ESG and Talking Heads and Can aren’t particularly apparent – NOCEK is no dance album – but with the likes of Fad Gadget and Cabaret Voltaire cropping up is no surprise. And The Names and Section 25, carry on that Factory lineage (though I’d suggest that Red Lorry Yellow Lorry’s proto-goth was as significant… effectively a rather more chipper Joy Division with a drum machine, for younger readers.
And so it carries onto the album. ‘Dead Cities’ is very industrial with its electro synths, though ‘Not Sleeping’ belies the pattern of fragility. ‘Nil’ is back to form, and type, with walls of synthetic noise, matched by a portentous atmosphere and James Graham’s usual accompanying sinister, doom-laden lyrics.
It’s far from a concepty album, too abstract for that, but the overbearing feeling of doom and the story that’s kind of played out make for the feeling that this is a much more considered, even ‘produced’ release, though the overall feel is that analogue, DIY / lo-fi sound beloved by, well, as evinced by the mixtapes mentioned, the band themselves.
It’s easy for older music fans to point that there’s nothing new when ‘The Kids’ seem to have claimed their heritage as their own. However, No One Can Ever Know treats this reverentially and in doing so, carves its own niche and results in a thoroughly worthwhile ‘new’ sound – not only have they met and surpassed their own previous high standards, but they’ve made an album that will rank alongside those of the bands that inspired it.
The only question remaining is, where do they go next?