Halflives
How Much A Heart Can Take Before It Breaks
By now, the push behind Halflives should’ve been way more aggressive. Especially since it morphed into Linda Battilani’s solo venture, there’s been a vested effort in following alt-pop trends to the letter, keeping commercial viability stalwart even at the expense of being all that good. (To argue that’s a shortcoming is to imply that there’s an implicit grade of quality to the acts racking up column inches, which…come on, be serious.) At least Halflives can put out work without dousing it in cynicism. Or, more accurately, cynicism that’s too overt. Case in point: How Much A Heart Can Take Before It Breaks is so clearly following the furrow ploughed by RØRY and her ilk ahead of it, but it’s something to have a heart in here that’s front-facing.
Granted, that one pro is still face to face with a whole heap of cons that, try as Battilani might, she can’t escape from easily. This is probably her best go at it in a while, to be sure, but it takes an agility or well-thought-out game plan to get there. Again, look at RØRY, who ran with an older perspective on pop-rock’s angles of depression and self-criticism. As for Battilani…well, she’s got gumption about her, at least. You can plainly see the investment in her work, especially on a song like perfectly broken that deals with self-love and acceptance despite one’s shortcomings. But the angle does matter, and Halflives’ can be virtually indistinguishable from anyone else’s. These are hardly the most flavourful sets of lyrics ever, not when the title of every song practically spells out what they’re about, and often some exact lines to be contained within. Would you believe that Immortals, a song about coming back from adversity, would feature allusions to rising from ashes? Or that the aforementioned perfectly broken would contain that wonderful phrase “demons in my head”, the town bike of easily comprehensible mental anguish?
It’s a little disheartening that, in almost a decade of existence, Halflives is still yet to land upon a definitive identity for itself. More so than that, it’s hard to believe that it even could. Battilani might not be as invested in full-blown PVRIS worship anymore, but hopping over to another branch of the nu-gen tree is hardly a preferable alternative. On the bright side, there’s the promise of bigger, catchier hooks to get by on this time, even if they’re built from materials that almost feel nabbed wholesale from other acts. No Way Out and Permanent Damage are dead ringers for Mothica or RØRY cuts; later on, the processed pop-punk of perfectly broken regrettably feels like a cutting from LØLØ’s repertoire, mid-range vocals and all. Of the five songs on this EP, all are competent, but none have a competence exclusive to Halflives. Battilani’s lack of unscrupulousness in her efforts isn’t loosening her grip on these particular sets of coattails.
Perhaps that’s why Halflives have spent so long treading water—even among a field of acts that are perpetually climbing through the same hoops as one another, one more doing it later and more anonymously just slips through the cracks. Again, it’s about angles, and How Much A Heart Can Take Before It Breaks really doesn’t have one besides being a copy of whole conga line of copies. The microscopic silver lining is that, this time, there’s a little more oomph to speak of. Even so, the whole practice is worryingly commonplace across Halflives’ EPs, with no sign of letting up. The purest intentions in the world couldn’t stop this sort of thing from feeling explicitly second-rate.
For fans of: RØRY, Mothica, Against The Current
‘How Much A Heart Can Take Before It Breaks’ by Halflives is released on 11th April on Still Standing Group.
Gallus
Cool To Drive
In the grand tradition of the all-timers of Scottish alt-rock frontmen, Barry Dolan isn’t afraid to let his natural voice fly. He’s also not one to downplay some of the hoarier perceptions of his nation’s culture either, if Gallus’ new EP is anything to go by. Previously, on their album We Don’t Like The People We’ve Become, Gallus were comparatively more refined, even sophisticated at points by indie-rock standards. Cool To Drive, however, is where the gloves have come off. Told as a series of vignettes from ‘semi-fictional’ characters (some excellent deniability there, chaps), the ragged, sleazier side of Gallus arguably leaves a greater cumulative impression, even just from five tracks of it.
Perhaps it’s Dolan’s past life as an actor that makes these voices more believable, or, at the very least, gives them the necessary weight. There’s a matter-of-factness to how our protagonist’s nightly escapades are relayed on the title track that lands with a curt clout. Hell, it doesn’t even need to be that direct, when Perfect Health and Just Desserts are coated in scuzz and arguably work even better. Coupled with the rowdier spirit that Gallus exude with minimal strain, there’s a freer feel abundant on Cool To Drive that has it rattling along consistently. Especially when it reaches the shout-along closer It Bit, Gallus’ efforts and appeals are undoubtedly at their most concentrated across this EP.
Musically, they follow suit. There’s a lot of punk and post-punk brought the fore, in thrumming basslines that spar more than slip into motorik familiarity on the title track, and the kind of brazen guitar work that make Depressed Beyond Tablets and It Bit so much more vital. As for Perfect Health and Just Desserts, they pack in the indie-rock snarl and squall that distills Gallus’ sensibilities even further, now with more groove and this gonzo, clattering approach to hook-crafting that’s got such a bite to it. It’s all produced in the exact right way, too. Gallus find themselves not an unfeasible distance from some of Biffy Clyro’s mid-sized, mid-reaction ruckuses, embraced with similar proficiency. As much as you’d struggle to imagine any of these songs ballooned to similar arena-ready scale, that in itself isn’t the sign of a lesser act. We’ve just made a Biffy Clyro comparison; that should speak for itself.
It’d honestly be nice to see how Cool To Drive’s cues could translate to a full album, where there’d be more space for Gallus to adventure deeper into their characters’ sordid little world. This is a strong taster, but there’s plenty of room to expand for something pretty distinctive. Gallus have often had an air of flexibility that others in the same space don’t have; putting that towards a concept like this could give them the push they’ve been after for while. Because this is really good, maybe even the best body of work Gallus have put out up to now. It’s the kind of the thing that modern Britrock, especially the contingent stuck in 2014 could do with a lot more of—big songs alongside tangible spirit and personality, not instead of them.
For fans of: Dead Pony, Biffy Clyro, SNAYX
‘Cool To Drive’ by Gallus is released on 11th April on Marshall Records.
CBZK
Dybuctwo
CBZK make soundtracks to found-footage films of decades-old unearthing inside abandoned Eastern Bloc bunkers. That, or they are the thing in the bunker, and reintroducing them to world has coaxed out this evil, uncanny horror-noise. That isn’t even too far from the truth, either. Here’s a project whose genesis lies in avant-garde black-metal, with members Kopczak and Fas branching out into pitch-black industrial music and hip-hop to weld together an atmospheric tapestry of small-town Poland’s underbelly.
So, right from the jump, this is not for everyone, even remotely. Hell, Dybuctwo feels so much like a fragmented proof of concept that it’s difficult to parse who it’s even for, full stop. Well, not entirely; there’s still a lot of intrigue generated through the impenetrable blackness alone. Opener W Głębi is a good general indicator of what you’ll find—a single, ceaseless guitar grind hammered out by its beat, totally unwilling to let in the thinnest crack of light or levity. Płyty and Duchota fall into more of a mobile groove, but that’s as great a concession as CBZK are willing to make.
Stretch that over 10 minutes or so, and that’s Dybuctwo. It’s about as singular as ideas in this sonic space get, often detrimental to longer-term prospects, but fitting its own criteria perfectly on morsels like this. There’s definitely an element of that coming from the lyrics in Polish, coupled with how heaving and eerie the delivery is to further its notes of sinister otherness. Again, though, even that’s barely budging from its one idea. The closest in essence is the closer . (yep, just .), where there’s at least a chance to set the scene of a quaint, quiet life in the past, before the EP ends by ripping it asunder through the definitive brusqueness of “Everything died.”
With a finishing blow like that, it’s hard to say what ground is really left for CBZK to cover that wouldn’t be a clear retread. Obviously their whole shtick is rather dependent on it, but there doesn’t seem to be much room for flexibility in the equation. It’s the most side-project-y side-project you can conceive of, in that sense. And for what that’s worth, it is okay. There’s little deeper enjoyment to glean outside the aesthetic, but that can still have merit, even if incalculable numbers of metal, industrial and even hip-hop acts could play this exact game with more substance. Still, a bite-size piece of mood music for Eastern European nihilism has its very, very small place.
For fans of: clipping., Author & Punisher, beaten-up cassettes found in the woods
‘Dybuctwo’ by CBZK is released on 11th April.
Words by Luke Nuttall
