Sugar Horse’s monolithic sludgy theatrics really do a number on uninitiated audiences that turn up for a show. A quick bandcamp browse shows the four-piece consistently underselling themselves as “a decidedly average band” (AKA @sugarhorse.are.awful) and evoke your mate’s brother’s unsuccessfully sarcastic emo project through song titles like Pictures Of Dogs Having Sex or Dadcore World Cup. You almost expect them to take to the stage with David Brent lookalike Tim Oliver awkwardly fondling his tie like their very own Bez. The reality is actually something more special, as the group have cooked up something deeper than the stoniest of doom acts and climbed heights set by dream-pop’s angelic weirdos.
That makes them a perfect fit for Pelagic, the label that seems dedicated to the sonic version of chiaroscuro. Through experimental EPs and a debut that showcased their unfurling compositions once of ether, then of bruising baritone guitars, Ashley Tubb and co. have found themselves committing their untethered sound to tape live in churches, reflecting hymnic rituals whether they’re laughing about that fact or being completely serious. Even one step further than The Live Long After’s full recording in Brighton Unitarian Church, the group’s sophomore sees them return to their Avon homeland to the derelict All Hallows Hall: a gruesomely hilarious name that mimics the band themselves, even when they’re tackling a larger purpose with more resonant, serious meaning.
The Grand Scheme Of Things firmly puts that intent into place. Aside from their love of “being a bit boneheaded and confrontational”, rousing euphoria has dominated their soundscapes more than the caveman’s tar pits, and they’ve doubled down on that sense of overwhelming and sped into it far more quickly. Songs are more condensed than before, and there’s a movement throughout that’s an “ebb and flow”(a theme that crops up lyrically too) to make the whole Grand Scheme the sum of multiple epics-in-miniature. The title track is only four and a half minutes long, The Shape Of ASMR To Come the same, both doing the job of disguising a 20-minute prog centrepiece as rock songs, a tough act that follows Pink Floyd’s Breathe or Ween’s Buckingham Green. Tubb’s evocative one-liners in the opening double-hitter deviate from the jokey song titles—“breathe the air / watch it burn”, “see the death”, a “hallelujah” cry—ironically adding a whole blast of colour to “a life monochromatic” that’s as textured as the choir-like build in Corpsing. In fact, the echoey tone, subtle synths, and stealthily moving bass movements that begin the record act as a throughline up to at least song four, where there’s a palpable change to the more elegiac opening suite.
For all the former building soundscapes that almost breathe a sigh of relief at their denouements, Mulletproof shifts from muffled mystery to panic dischords, jarring drum snaps, crushing baritone guitar strings from Jake Healy and Balrog growls. Continuing in that vein, Martin Savage’s drumming and Chris Howarth’s bass are brought out from the wispy smoke to the forefront of Spit Beach and dip in and out of Hell-depth lava pools. Anyone waiting for ‘the riff’ gets rewarded with an isolated section as crunchy as its accompanying vocals, from which you can make out some of what’s happening, with “we all become the butt of the joke” and something about “concrete”. Headbangers will rejoice for New Dead Elvis, while Office Job Simulator’s bold vocal statement starter blooms into a mushroom cloud of hefty heaviness. It’s the song most reminiscent of old Sugar Horse before they sign off with a signature wink; for all their PR of avoiding the “drawn out, endless Space Rock thing”, the aptly named Space Tourist closes the record with 25 minutes of Sunn0)))-like minimalist aural bombardment.
Even for seasoned Sugar Horse listeners, there’s a wholly original path taken to showcase their dirtiest doom and their even-greater emphasis on bewildering catharsis. Getting to the point sooner may have been this record’s MO, yet it’s shrouded by a slow burn that nibbles you on the first listen, yet feels like a much needed exposition with each spin, all before you get lost again in the reverie of the expansive and all-consuming final third. There’s always been a boldness to the Bristolians, and nothing else quite feels like The Grand Scheme Of Things. Whether they were setting out to humour, alienate, or challenge their listeners, they’ve probably achieved all three here, keeping us delightfully puzzled until the next one.
For fans of: LLNN, Oceansize, Pijn
‘The Grand Scheme Of Things’ by Sugar Horse is released on 4th October on Pelagic Records.
Words by Elliot Burr
