You Me At Six
SUCKAPUNCH
At this point in their career, itās worth looking at how You Me At Six actually got here, because thereās an interesting conversation surrounding them specifically. They mightāve taken the mantle of Britrockās biggest stars, and have held onto it for a good while now, but when considering the relationship between the movement of that scene over the years and how You Me At Sixās sound has changed with it, it earmarks a band whose entire identity feels defined by whatās around them rather than what they can produce. Theyāre a band whoāve been wildly inconsistent in terms of tone and how theyāve gone around carving out various bodies of work from no-frills alt-rock, and though theyāve developed a tremendous profile off the back of that, to them as a band, itās only been revealing itself as more and more detrimental. And to be clear, their intentions to capture the zeitgeist of alt-rock on a moment-to-moment basis havenāt changed, but itās only revealed itself as much more weary lately, as a band with an already limited crop of ideas will scramble to fashion something together and continue to feel more drained of drive as they do so. Thus, itās no real surprise that SUCKAPUNCH turns out the way it does, as an attempt to replicate the angrier, more galvanised energy of Sinners Never Sleep, but saddled with the same dreariness that tends to scupper You Me At Sixās modern efforts. On the whole, it isnāt hard to see how something like this just doesnāt work, where the radio-rock focus thatās been especially prevalent with You Me At Six recently doesnāt mesh with attempts to carve out some exposed edges, and it can be a really jarring listening experience. Thereās already been a lot made of how the EDM-esque structure of Whatās It Like makes for a lumbering mess of a song that bottoms out whenever it wants to sound huge, but then thereās the scratchy approximation of punk on MAKEMEFEELALIVE that a particularly unattractive production job hinders almost entirely, or the lumpen meanders of tracks like WYDRN and Adrenaline that unfortunately characterise too much of the album. On a purely aesthetic basis, this might be You Me At Sixās least sonically appealing effort to date, where the fixation of sounding raw sidelines the tunefulness thatās always been their greatest asset. Itās such an overwhelmingly maximalist sound too, where loud moments almost always sound shredded and blown-out (and the drums almost always sound either massively compressed or as though theyāre being played on sheet metal), and Josh Franceschiās attempts at vocal aggression like on Nice To Me really feel oversold. For an album that clearly wants to sound heavy, SUCKAPUNCH feels reliant on those superficial elements rather than anything with real punch; the revving guitar on Voicenotes sounds like it might explode but never does, and the dour tone of the entire album ends up as oppressively dull rather than gritty or edgy.
To be fair, itās not like You Me At Six canāt land on something that at least vaguely resembles what they want here. The pounding pace of Beautiful Way and the title track have some directness to them thatās pretty good, and when the band play to their pre-established strengths on the more wistful ballad Glasgow, thatās unsurprisingly where the album feels the most comfortable. Itās also the moment of sober reflection that feels the most mature within SUCKAPUNCH, reflecting on a broken relationship that might rebuild itself, but ultimately shouldnāt when both partners want different things. Itās not spectacularly deep, but in comparison with the rest of the album, itās a lot more measured, and when the concept of maturity is brought onto the table, it highlights how little about SUCKAPUNCH as a whole actually gets there. Itās an album that wants to rage and take on a world on fire, but swinging indiscriminately is rarely the way to do that, and thatās what this album feels like itās doing more often than not. Thereās a tenacity to that, especially in the case of the title track which actually lends to muscle to the āgetting knocked and getting back up againā trope, but the broad rallying cries of MAKEMEFEELALIVE and WYDRN and shots at critics on Whatās It Like that are both tired and tiresome arenāt all that compelling overall. They feel like the work of a band swinging for the fences in the belief that theyāre doing something grand and powerful, only to end up contributing to the noise theyāre looking to break through. Hell, itās not even that possible to imagine these songs lasting in a You Me At Six live set, not when the hooks and choruses are so notably weaker than whatās preceded them. But again, the lineage of You Me At Six has reached a point where something like this could be predicted, an album looking to curry favour with the rock crowd once again without alienating the wider market theyāve cultivated at this point, only SUCKAPUNCH is even a few rungs lower than what that prediction offered. Itās not an engaging listen, nor does even establish the foundations that You Me At Six clearly want it to. Itās the clearest example to date of a You Me At Six album simply not working, where their own limitations as a band really come to head and actively disrupt their path.
4/10
For fans of: The Hunna, Royal Blood, The Amazons
‘SUCKAPUNCH’ by You Me At Six is out now on AWAL Recordings.
Lande Hekt
Going To Hell
Itās interesting to see how muted the overall anticipation for Lande Hektās debut full-length is, but itās also explainable. As solid as theyāve become, Muncie Girls havenāt really had a big moment in the spotlight yet that would get those wheels turning behind them, and for as far as Hektās solo material has been in the past, it just hasnāt impressed in the same way as others embarking on the same path. Her Gigantic Disappointment EP last year simply felt like more Muncie Girls music, without any sort of spin that could notably differentiate Hektās approach when stepping out on her own. Pleasingly then, thatās something that Going To Hell strives to address rather concisely, and actually becomes an album that does more with Hektās status as a solo album. It feels more personal and insular for one, operating on a template thatās not entirely dissimilar from Muncie Girlsā overall, but has the specificity to apply more directly to Hekt alone, addressing her coming out as gay on Whiskey and the subsequent bigotry endured on the title track. Itās got a very recognisable indie-rock singer-songwriter feel in the writing, as Hekt places a lot of focus on her own sense of distance and loneliness on 80 Days Of Rain and Winter Coat, and self-criticism and doubt on Undone and Candle that has emotionality and weight. It definitely helps that Winter Coat will undoubtedly have more resonance in its lockdown-released context, but even away from that, Hekt is a very evocative writer on her own merits, and it feeds into the resigned wistfulness of the album really well. Thereās a lot of individual lyrics and themes on Going To Hell that stick so much more than on its predecessor, and thatās down to how well itās been retooled and refocused to show Hektās individuality as an artist.
Musically though, thatās less of a factor, but thereās still evidence of moving away from Muncie Girls extrapolation into something with more of a solo artist slant. The drier, more brittle indie-rock production is familiar but feels well-utilised alongside Hektās voice and its slightly huskier, warmer tone. Admittedly the vocal mixing isnāt always the best, when the opening three tracks Whiskey, 80 Days Of Rain and Hannover are very heavy on the reverb that can sometimes feel really washed out, but when Going To Hell stabilises, itās really likable and approachable in a way that these albums often tend to be. Thereās a lovely intimacy in how Winter Coat is stripped right back and how well the vocals on Candle are laid to just float by, but the jangle on Undone and Stranded and the bright alt-pop bubbles that soak December feel just as well-constructed and balanced. For an album thatās not big on huge, overpowering hooks or choruses, thereās a charm in the way that Going To Hell moves forward and makes the most of the ideas it has. Itās got the indie side-project feel, where thereās still a lot of care and attention gone into it, especially in the writing, and though thereās nothing really exemplary or boundary-breaking about what Hekt is doing, the steps that sheās taken still feel like sheās moving forward and progressing as an artist. Her solo work feels more like an accompaniment to her band rather than an alternative, and thatās an exceptionally positive note to hit for an artist whoās clearly still progressing.
7/10
For fans of: The Replacements, Laura Jane Grace, Muncie Girls
‘Going To Hell’ by Lande Hekt is released on 22nd January on Get Better Records.
Shame
Drunk Tank Pink
Thereās definitely a case that can be made for a band like Shame losing their luster after a little while. The assault of post-punk is yet to let up, and even for a band like this who solidified themselves as critical darlings on their first album, it can all get a bit much when itās coming so fast. Itās not precisely Shameās fault, but they can also strike as a band thatās more proficient in what they do compared to their peers whoāll pull and extrapolate their genre from various angles. It therefore says a lot when the primary port of call around Drunk Tank Pink has been the serendipity around its release, originally conceived to encapsulate the ennui of post-tour living and boredom, now unleashed into a world where lockdown after lockdown has made that an even more relatable reality. Charlie Steen has a broad, roughshod vocal delivery with the willing inelegance thatās a feature of plenty of post-punk, and while his lyrics on their face can sometimes be a bit flat (the opener Alphabet springs to mind), thereās a certain thrill from watching him delve into the minutiae and mundanities of his everyday life just to see where he winds up. Born In Luton find its feet pretty quickly, but thereās more intrigue in the abstraction, in how a frosted-over sense of self-discovery permeates through Snow Day, or especially how the closer Station Wagon will just spiral off into its headspace. Itās not an album bursting with the stiff, motorik choruses that the current wave of post-punk has perpetuated, but thatās evident of how comfortable Drunk Tank Pink is with going down its own winding path, and thatās a respectable quality to have.
That said, when Shame are more in touch with where their genre is currently heading, itās the simple fact of tapping into more propulsive, groove-driven sounds that makes them come off stronger. As an album, it can feel a bit patchy, where its weighed down by starker, less pliable noise-rock flourishes that – at least in the relatively mainstream space that Shame occupy – can be a bit too rigid for them. Itās ultimately no wonder that the rubbery new wave spikes of Nigel Hitter and Water In The Well, or the more straightforward punk of Great Dog connect more; theyāre ultimately more kinetic and punchy, and feel as though Shame are tapping into a brand of post-punk that their more off-kilter sensibilities can thrive in. Unfortunately thatās not something they do all the time here, and as a result, Drunk Tank Pink sometimes falls into a ponderousness and listlessness that doesnāt do it any favours. Itās played and produced well enough to stop it from outright stalling out as some post-punk is wont to do, but compared to the bands whoāve ingrained themselves in this sharper new wave, Shameās pick-and-choose approach can feel too lopsided to work that well. Beyond the lyrical rabbit holes, itās not one that has a lot of explicit replay value past isolated moments, and thatās a shame when thereās definitely some nice ideas that could crystallise a lot more effectively with just a bit work to them. As it stands though, Drunk Tank Pink kinds of loses its way among a sea of more direct and engaging post-punk, and while itās easy to see where Shameās status among the critics comes from, itās not quite as easy to get onboard otherwise.
6/10
For fans of: Fontaines D.C., The Murder Capital, Girl Band
‘Drunk Tank Pink’ by Shame is out now on Dead Oceans.
Beach Bunny
Blame Game
Itās not too surprising that Beach Bunny are already releasing some new music. Not only was last yearās Honeymoon pretty short for a full-length, but itās re-focus into poppier climes and the bandās bigger profile thanks to TikTok imply a necessity for the drip-feeding approach to sate their base. After all, Beach Bunny are a very easy-to-consume act, and the platforms theyāve made their name on arenāt the ones thatāll keep them around for long without something new when that consumption is done. If that all sounds like itās looking to throw shade on Blame Game as a loose, thrown-out EP, itās really not, especially when Beach Bunny continue to make good use of their pop-rock footing without losing sight of their overall vision. A dejected Lili Trifilio ruminates on past relationship experiences that have ultimately chipped away at her, being mistreated or held as an afterthought on Good Girls (Donāt Get Used) and Nice Guys while ultimately still wanting the possibility of a connection on Love Sick, regardless of how it might hurt her. Then on the title track, the picture is expanded, where victim-blaming and misogyny gives a societal pass for that behaviour, and where Trifilio can only despair as it keeps happening time and time again. Admittedly itās a bit clunky to have that as the EPās final moment when the rest is so tightly focused in, but itās well-written and pertinent all the same, with the cleverness and precision that allows it to click so swiftly, and an emotionality thatās grounded in reality without ever being oversold.
Granted, Beach Bunny arenāt really breaking ground here, or even expanding their own scope all that much. As a very brief EP, itās more about getting a handful of new songs out that notably build on what theyāve already got, and by those standards, there isnāt much to complain about with Blame Game. It might peak early with the glimmering pop-rock excellence of Good Girls (Donāt Get Used), but the flexible indie-pop skips of Love Sick and the grittier indie-grunge of Nice Guys and the title track encapsulate the rest of Beach Bunnyās oeuvre well. Perhaps it would be nice to see them land on a sound that encompasses all of these elements in one, if only for consistencyās sake, but right now, theyāre doing good work, crafting the sort of indie music thatās almost insidiously catchy while still having something to say. Trifilioās glassy, Gen Z vocal delivery might be a turn-off for some, but it works in context if nothing else, and compared to others in her field, thereās definitely more personality in her efforts, in how she can get a bit more vulnerable and hurt like on Good Girls (Donāt Get Used). Itās an example of how this sort of thing can work, and when many acts just struggle to find that spark for themselves, Beach Bunny are pressing ahead at a good pace while having their own core solidified. On a pretty brief EP that doesnāt offer a huge amount to say, theyāre crossing the bar at a rather constant rate, without a bad song here and with the command of melody to move a lot further ahead. Good stuff from a band whoāve well and truly set that as their standard.
7/10
For fans of: Diet Cig, Wallows, mxmtoon
‘Blame Game’ by Beach Bunny is out now on Mom+Pop Records.
The Sonder Bombs
Clothbound
The Sonder Bombs are by no means an enormous band, but like a lot of other acts in the same indie-pop-rock mould, itās always interesting to see how the excitement and passion of the scene around them gives the complete opposite impression. Itās definitely an earned response, seeing how Modern Female Rockstar was an excellent little album that never did get the love it deserved, and the vocal push behind The Sonder Bombs on this second album has a similar homegrown buzz that only feels magnified by how concentrated it is. Again though, it is worth it, particularly when Clothbound feels like the work of a much bigger band in how brimming with personality and gusto it is. Itās a lot clearer and more refined than others in its field, with a twinkling production style that can veer towards twee without fully immersing itself in it. Those moments like the tart, buzzy synths on Vegas, BABYYY!!! and the more prominent ukulele on What Are Friends For are wisely kept rather tightly handled, and so they donāt feel counterintuitive to the greater rollick that The Sonder Bombs pick up. Perhaps the rounded edges of Clothbound arenāt totally suitable for what resembles a full-on breakdown on k., but thereās otherwise such a rich sense of melody in abundance here. The clarity on songs like Papillon and Swing On Sight is regularly excellent, and the fact that The Sonder Bombs are still able to buoy it with real organic presence and a scrappiness below the surface belies the best kind of pop-rock, where neither melody or depth is marginalised in favour of the other. Itās the sort of the thing this type of indie-pop tends to have a really strong hand in, but The Sonder Bombsā overall bigger sound – particularly when they lean into a real, beautiful lushness on Scattered and The One About You – feels a lot more refined and in keeping with an act who are already surpassing their own limits.
And it really canāt be ignored how much of a key factor in this is Willow Hawksā vocals. Again, she has a clarity that rings out phenomenally well across the album, but with a slightly more subdued timbre reminiscent of Hayley Williamsā lower register and an unflinching sense of vulnerability and honesty, Clothbound really finds strength in just how open and honest it is. Thereās a plain-spokenness to the writing that really elevates it, and Hawks being such an expressive vocalist can really capture the exasperation at seeing a relationship turn sour on The Brink and Swing On Sight, or the fractured hurt at receiving the news of a family memberās death on Scattered. Where Clothbound really reveals a hidden strength, though, is in how it can capture of sense of comfort without dipping into complacency; Vegas, BABYYY!!! does that wonderfully, but itās Crying Is Cool that serves as the clearest standout, with Hawks consoling a friend and striving to find a place of happiness and contentment for them both along the way. Itās emblematic of the smaller, human moments that play a far greater role in The Sonder Bombsā music, where small or insular feelings can capture just as much, if not more resonance that grand drama, and to see the band so consistently flourish by embracing that makes for another great album under their belts. It honestly is the best kind of pop-rock, brimming with charm and great choruses as well as palpable feeling, and The Sonder Bombs capture that with an approachability and accessibility that only elevates them further. Itās no wonder theyāre one of the bands from their particular scene breaking out of those boundaries, given that Clothbound heralds the sort of breakout thatās always wonderful to see more of.
8/10
For fans of: Snarls, Jetty Bones, Future Teens
‘Clothbound’ by The Sonder Bombs is released on 29th January on Big Scary Monsters.
Kiwi Jr.
Cooler Returns
The January release date last year didnāt do it many favours, but going back to Kiwi Jr.ās debut Football Money now, itās still generally likable. Itās the sort of indie-rock thatās sharp and quick-witted in its very tight execution, with a propensity for occasionally getting tangled up in its writing thatās more charming than outright damaging. It was a decent little album, and honestly one that itās not too surprising to see Kiwi Jr. following up after just a year, given how efficient in sound they regularly come across. But with that in mind, the fact that Cooler Returns is a longer album with negligible-at-best evolution in the formula to its name is where the shortcomings and – for lack of a better term – shallowness of the bandās sound can be shown. Theirs is a style that doesnāt have a lot of dimensionality, and while the inclusions of more pianos and harmonica feel worthwhile (especially in the case of the latter that craft a distinctly Dylan-esque mood), Cooler Returns is generally more of the same, which can begin to run its course pretty quickly. This sort of spry, compact indie-rock doesnāt have the greatest capacity for expansion as it is, highlighted by how so much of this album can bleed together, particularly when Jeremy Gaudetās voice seems to pick up the same lilting cadence quite often. At least Kiwi Jr. have retained the same instincts for tightness and punchiness, and songs like Undecided Voters and Omaha do have a nice bounce thatās easy to get caught up in.
Itās more of an energetic listen than an outwardly engaging one, seeing how a lot of Kiwi Jr.ās impulses put a heavy focus on that side of themselves. Theyāre still a smart band lyrically with a keenness about imagery and word choice thatās definitely interesting to comb through, but between how unnecessarily dense and bogged-down by that an album this snappy is, and how they make a lot of specific references to Canadian locations that a general audience probably wonāt catch, it yields a similar issue that Football Money had overall. Itās a lot easier to just hold onto the mood of it all, where the sharp, 2000s-leaning guitars and bass and tight drum work (that, admittedly, can feel a bit over-compressed at times) form a lot of the propulsiveness. Itās a good feel for Kiwi Jr. to tap as deeply into that particular era of indie music, and with the Sub Pop production style now behind them, Cooler Returns has an appeal thatās rooted in nostalgia without throwing that as a Hail Mary. Itās solid stuff overall, but also finds Kiwi Jr. in a bit of a holding pattern, where theyāve doubled down on the best of themselves in a way thatās not as gripping. For anyone deeply invested in their debut, the fact that Cooler Returns is a bit more of the same wonāt disappoint, but itās the sort of relative sophomore slump betrays Kiwi Jr.ās need to innovate before they really begin to dip.
6/10
For fans of: The Strokes, Alvvays, The New Pornographers
‘Cooler Returns’ by Kiwi Jr. is released on 22nd January on Sub Pop Records.
Holygood
Killing Giants
In a past life as Light You Up, Holygood were one of the more underrated Britrock propositions of the first half of the 2010s, with an emo-flavoured alt-rock sound mostly in line with scene standouts like Deaf Havana and Decade. Under the Holygood moniker though, theyāve made some sizable steps to advance down the shifting trends of modern rock, now with a sharper, more polished pop-rock sound and a release strategy thatās followed the ethos of ālittle but oftenā in streams of standalone singles with reportedly plenty more to come. Even their new EP Killing Giants carries over some of the same cues, at only three tracks long with yet another shift into wildly varying alt-pop that, if anything, struggles to highlight what Holygoodās core focus as a band is anymore. Really, the only carryover comes in a strong sense of melody that prevails throughout, the sort of thing thatās really expected from a band like this but which Patrick Napierās malleable vocal style is able to make stand out regardless. Even when heās rapping on the title track, thereās a flexibility there that isnāt too far removed from the smoothness shown on a song like Bath Salts, and that sort of genuine creative intent is good to see. The lyrics to accompany it mightnāt be breaking the mould – the sort of big sentiments about prevailing and moving forward that songs like these tend to embody – but the core of strength to these songs is worth praising for just how solid it is.
But then thereās the sound, the area where Holygood find themselves to be nowhere near as consistent or concise as they should be. Theyāve undoubtedly embraced the āgenrelessā approach of alt-pop in how varied every moment is, but as is often the case, it makes for a patchwork collection of ideas rather than a fully-formed musical statement. The stuttered, panting drops amongs the jerky electronic canvas of Balt Salts feels like a cool idea that could easily be opened out or developed more, but they feel largely shoved aside for acoustic pensiveness of Moving Mountains and the colossal blocks of sound of the title track. It feels unfocused rather than liberated, as Holygood flit between sounds and even deliveries thatāll change entirely from moment to moment, and the end product just doesnāt feel that satisfying as a result. It doesnāt help that they similarly tend to fall into a lot of the regular alt-pop traps, where the production is implacably polished and overworked, and leads to something like the title track being so lumbering and unmodulated in its progressions. For a band that once impressed with how earthy and organic they were, it definitely feels like a regression, as if Holygood have plucked out the biggest ideas in modern pop-rock without considering if theyāre actually the best. Itās a shame to say that, but in its non-committal approach to sound and approach, Killing Giants sees a band trying to slot into contemporaneity without considering whatās best for them. The interesting ideas that are here largely feel drowned out by a lack of focus or tightening, and while thereās clearly still a spark of creative momentum flickering within Holygood, itās nowhere near as easy to isolate here. At times, they just feel like another one of these bands, and thatās really disappointing to say.
5/10
For fans of: PVRIS, Don Broco, Superlove
‘Killing Giants’ by Holygood is released on 22nd January.
The Sad Song Co.
Saudade
The advent of āquarantine musicā throughout the pandemic is inherently a good thing, if only to give artists the means of keeping themselves going while the wider industry at large has effectively stalled out. Whatās less positive is that a lot of the releases under this banner seem to suffer from the same handful of problems, either being too insubstantial to survive outside of being a time-killing exercise, or in referencing the pandemic as to instantly date them on the other side. As such, though its origins predate the lockdown, Nigel Powellās new album under his The Sad Song Co. moniker Saudade feels rather in-keeping with those general trends, albeit in a way that suggest it could last at least a bit longer. Powell is wise enough to keep the same emotional beats intact without lingering on the specific, anachronistic context, meaning thereās more of a universality to feelings of distance and loneliness on Away Until Christmas Morning and Lighthouse, or political disillusionment on Feeding. Itās generally kept pretty intimate, and though it can brush right to the edge of sentimentality – especially when Powellās voice is as reedy and hyper-earnest as it is – itās not to an excessive amount in the writing. Generally, Saudade is a pretty balanced album, leaning both into peacemeal bedroom-pop and literate indie-rock in tone and writing style, and while that doesnāt make for a particularly high-octane listen, the strengths and shortcomings of each side are suitably complemented for a solid final product.
Itās when factoring in the pool of sounds Saudade is pulling from that creates the biggest stumbling blocks, where that lack of thrills originates in the arrangements and occasionally shrunken instrumentals that rarely do music like this any favours. It goes without saying that Saudade is at its best when Powell opens his canvas out a bit, allowing songs like Hastings, Out Of Season and Deserted By Every God to build into bigger indie-rock pieces that, in mood, arenāt entirely unlike his former work as a member of The Sleeping Souls. He doesnāt necessarily have the voice for it, but thereās a much more competent rock musician in Powell, which can get a bit lost among compositions that donāt give him the greatest platform to explore that. Thereās a tweeness to songs like These Tears Wonāt Cry Themselves and Lighthouse that can not only exacerbate the tartness in Powellās voice to an almost uncomfortable level, but can feel a bit too insular to achieve much, in the flickering drum machine and tiny, buzzing synth of the former and the very poised, almost hymnal piano of the latter. Itās got the stereotypical feel thatās become associated with lockdown music and indeed bedroom-pop in general, where the intimacy and homespun details are brought to the front with more prominence than they can really carry. At least the clarity of the production can work in both lighter intricacy and more expansive rock moments, though finding a balance between the two is probably Saudadeās biggest flaw. For all the nice ideas it has, its patchwork assembly doesnāt allow them to hit as often, and it all largely winds up being pleasant, but not quite effective as it could be. Should Powell put more of his focus on bigger alt-rock material, he could happen upon something quite strong; if nothing else, thatās the clearest indication of a comfortable musical lane that Saudade produces.
6/10
For fans of: Frightened Rabbit, Beabadoobee, Frank Turner
‘Saudade’ by The Sad Song Co. is released on 22nd January.
Tamar Aphek
All Bets Are Off
Itās interesting that Tamar Aphekās interest in rock music came about thanks to bands like The Jesus Lizard and Shellac, the sort of notoriously inaccessible acts that tend to come much further down the music rabbit hole, rather than act as the jumping-on point. It implies an experimental streak thatās far more pure and uninhibited in where itās willing to go, while also being liable to stack up a mile-high barrier to entry at basically every turn. In other words, itās the sort of thing you need to know youāll be into from the jump, which means that All Bets Are Off suffers from the usual slate of issues that tend to run rampant across these sorts of albums. In the case of this album in particular album though, thatās exacerbated further by how loose and jazz-adjacent it feels, given that Aphek and her band go about blowing the concept of conventional structure and rhythm wide open. It might sound forward-thinking when put that way, and Yuval Garin has some mighty impressive skills as a drummer, but more often than not, All Bets Are Off feels as though it doesnāt know exactly what itās doing. Thereās an almost improvisational sense of freedom but it doesnāt really go anywhere or coalesce into much, particularly when the setup of these songs can feel so minimal. A song like Too Much Information is built around its sense of keeling instability, but it canāt muster much among that to keep itself afloat, and like a lot of the album, thereās an impressive technicality and knowledge of musical progressions that arenāt applied much beyond that.
Itās not even like the seed of a good idea canāt be identified either, as Aphek is clearly capable of solidifying and slimming down her ideas into some pretty solid garage-rock. Show Me Your Pretty Side is the clearest high point in its slithering bass and hollowed out percussion thatās the most cogent melody on the album, and the best canvas for Aphekās huskier, more enigmatic vocals to do the most. As well as that, thereās the harsher crunch and bass stabs of Russian Winter and a slightly seedier rendition of As Time Goes By from Casablanca to bookend the album, encompassing the shakier darkness and offbeat sensibilities that acts like Le Butcherettes and Queen Kwong have done so well to capitalise on. Hell, itās not even like All Bets Are Off is that much different in principle, with the starkly bleak production style and a lot of oblique, fractured lyrics looking to parse something out of the darkness. And sure, where this is now will likely have some appeal to the avant-garde crowd, but thereās something a lot more stable in here that doesnāt need to compromise its vision. As it stands, All Bets Are Off is generally less memorable because of how scattered its ideas are, making good use of the talent at its disposal while forgetting to carve out any real songs in the process. That might be missing the point, but thatās ultimately how this ends up.
5/10
For fans of: Le Butcherettes, Queen Kwong, Shellac
‘All Bets Are Off’ by Tamar Aphek is released on 29th January on Kill Rock Stars.
Words by Luke Nuttall
