öOoOoOoOoOo - Chairleg Thesis

 

öOoOoOoOoOo - Samen (Apathia Records)
Fans of Pin-Up Went Down will find this debut record from France’s newest export Chenille (let’s just call them that for the sake of sanity) quite remarkable. That’s because what these two musicians have done (with help from Pryapisme skinsman Aymeric Thomas on session drumming) actually works to build upon the Pin-Up Went Down formula, and hey – it even has the same frontwoman, Asphodel. You might even call this act Pin-Up Went Down 2.0, even though this time around there is much more of an experimental factor, almost to the level of Unexpect and most certainly Carnival In Coal, as well as the obvious Diablo Swing Orchestra influence, not excluding Mr. Bungle (who inspired pretty much all of this stuff to be honest.)
When you listen to this one don’t expect one approach to continue for too long. There’s disco, death metal, pop music, freaky atmospheres, black metal blasts, electronic bits, Seussian horns and even Dahl-friendly Oompa Loompas. Yes, I said Oompa Loompas. You’ll actually hear them chiming in on this weird circus music around the mid-point of the album, particularly on the cut “No Guts = No Masters.” You may also hear some lounge, drum and bass and heavy bits of groove. The album even incorporates chiptunes. It’s not just an “everything but the kitchen sink” kind of album, because Samen also includes the kitchen sink, as well as the saxophone. At this point, we may as well call Chenille an avant-garde act, because there is just no other way to put it. I’m telling you right now listener, I had no idea what I was getting into with this one at first and was wondering what in the living hell I was listening to when opener “Rules Of The Show” came onto the scene. I said to myself, “Disco pop? Who in the hell sent me this?” Though as I kept listening, I suddenly realized that there was more to this than I ever could have imagined.
Samen is the kind of record where one will discover something new with each listen and must be absorbed thoroughly through repeated listens. You just won’t get it the first time, because there’s just too much to ascertain. It’s all going on at one time, in true experimental “paint on the wall” fashion. Some people don’t even see this as music, but that’s okay as it is literally marked as an exhibition, as if it was an entry in an art gallery. This classification fits, because Samen is literally abstract art in the form of music. Additionally, I can’t even discern as to what some of the songs might be about and feel that this is is one record where the experience will be enjoyed more with the actual booklet in hand. Asphodel’s lyrical matter is extremely difficult to understand, though I believe opener “Rules Of The Show” is intended to make a sort of strong feminist statement. As for grasping at straws, “Well-Oiled Machine” seems to have something to do with peer-to-peer file transferring and Who’s The Boss. I guess it is appropriate to mention that while I was born in the eighties, I never took interest in that show, nor The Wonder Years. Aside from the weird scientific excursions taken here, we also have a couple of catchier (yes, even in this style) numbers in the form of “Purple Tastes Like White” and “I Hope You Sleep Well” where the Oompa Loompas appear along with death metal vocals. Baptiste Bertrand comes into play as he manages the guitars, bass, programming and the vocals on “Well-Oiled Machine.”
Carnival In Coal was the literal birth of French experimental metal, so it makes sense that Pin-Up Went Down and this new incarnation in Chenille would only continue to expand on some of the greatest things in this genre. In all honesty, Pin-Up Went Down was a hard sell for me because it was too poppy and not experimental enough, nor did it have the amount of extremity that I remembered from Carnival in Coal or other works by Arno Strobl. Yet in this new, daring format I find Chenille to be one of the most interesting avant-garde acts of the last decade. This is what happens when the formula is done right, and if you don’t understand it or just don’t get it, that is entirely acceptable. After all, Chenille aren’t meant for everyone and not everyone will be able to get into them very easily. But I don’t think that Asphodel and Bertrand would have it any other way. Samen challenges the mind, but it also twists and distorts easily accessible pop music in a way that would make most American contemporary labels scratch their heads. I could see several executives now with confused looks on their faces, wondering how and to who they would actually market this record. Which is why those gentlemen aren’t working with this act and the fine folks over at Apathia Records are.
I am not sure about some of the other writers here at New Noise, but I have always been one more into experimental and overly weird approaches. So chances are that if you’re going to combine a shoehorn with a trombone and filter that through a bubble bath somehow, I’ll be game for the experience. That being noted, you need to open up your mind extravagantly wide for this one as it can go from depraved and ugly to rather pretty in a mere second. Chenille can offer a bite or they can be soft and fluffy. Sometimes they may just turn into a type of amorphous antimatter. It simply depends on the song. Although I’ve talked about a couple of the tracks here already, my intention is not to spoil such an interesting record for you. I haven’t even explained every style utilized on this record, particularly because I haven’t been able to catch them all. I will say that the most extreme moment on the disc is the French language cut, “Hemn Be Rho Die Samen” which also closes the disc, showing listeners right at the very end how demonic and hopeless this act can sound when they want to. I have a feeling that most of the more elite metalheads out there will probably just check out that one, but I recommend that the more open-minded of listeners give the entire album a chance. There’s simply nothing like it and hasn’t been any similar approaches for quite a while. Even when there were, nothing this over the top was ever attempted. I applaud Chenille and hope that this is only the beginning of something grand. As a minor side note, you might have noticed that the band’s moniker is a literal caterpillar which was intended. After all, that is what Chenille literally translates to in English. It’s quite clever. Just as clever as this album as a matter of fact.  From: https://newnoisemagazine.com/reviews/album-review-ooooooooooo-samen/

 

Uncle Tupelo - Anodyne

Before Wilco and Son Volt, Jeff Tweedy and Jay Farrar invented alt-country with the mercurial Uncle Tupelo. When Uncle Tupelo released their major-label debut, Anodyne in October 1993, it should have been the beginning of something big. In a way, it was. Led by Jay Farrar and Jeff Tweedy from tiny Belleville, Illinois, the alt-country movement’s promising breakout band was packing clubs in major cities across America and Europe, not just the college towns where they spent years building their fan base. They were following up their left-turn acoustic record, March 16-20, 1992, recorded with R.E.M.’s Peter Buck, with their best record yet — one that amplified the band’s strongest assets, the marriage of Jay Farrar’s yearning heartland spirit with Jeff Tweedy’s punk-rock soul. Anodyne smoothed the jarring, start-stop rhythms of the band’s first two records, No Depression and Still Feel Gone, into a straight-ahead steamroll behind new drummer Ken Coomer. Farrar’s barbed guitar riffs sear on “Chickamauga,” where he compares a crumbling relationship to a Civil War bloodbath. Quieter moments such as the title track flex the strength of new multi-instrumentalist Max Johnston, who played dobro, banjo and fiddle, and former guitar tech John Stirratt, who held down bass when Tweedy switched to guitar. Despite the buzz, Uncle Tupelo never had a hit. Their closest brush with fame was playing Late Night with Conan O’Brien on national TV, and they didn’t break the Billboard Top 200 until the compilation 83/93: An Anthology peaked at Number 173 in 2002. But following the band’s final show, a mere six months after releasing Anodyne, the band’s influence grew as Farrar and Tweedy found success with Son Volt and Wilco, respectively.
Eventually, the friction between lifelong friends Farrar and Tweedy brought down the band at their biggest moment. Tweedy rushed the remaining members of Uncle Tupelo into the studio to record Wilco’s 1995 debut A.M., while Farrar took the long cut and found success with the hit single “Drown” on Son Volt’s Trace a year later. Farrar has continued to wrestle with obscure, early country and folk music and his textured guitar wranglings over eight solid albums. Wilco has evolved from a Tupelo-twin to an engine of reinvention, from the deconstructionist country-rock of 1996’s Being There to the shimmering heartbreak of 1999’s Summerteeth and 2001’s experimental Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Although the two have apparently reconciled since the band’s final show in 1994, Anodyne is where the fissures in their friendship, and Uncle Tupelo, grew into a fault and spawned two of Americana music’s biggest bands.  From: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-country/uncle-tupelos-anodyne-at-25-oral-history-wilco-733327/

Birtha - My Pants Are Too Short

 

Hiding in a box under the frills and petticoats of a Victorian costume shop I spied “Spirit of Rock – The Probe Family Sampler”, It’s wild psychedelic cover featuring a naked green woman, adorned with strings of beads, throwing her head back in ectsasy had such an impact visually that I had to take her home. The opening track instantly blew me away. That was Birtha’s first single Free Spirit, female fueled rock like I never heard before, even my ovaries were banging along. Birtha pioneered the all female rock lineup, successfully breaking the mould of an almost exclusively male dominated genre. They paved the way for the likes of The Runaways and the Slits. These four ladies were highly accomplished musicians who totally kicked ass. Hailing from Los Angeles, Rosemary Butler (Bass) and Shele Pinnizotto (guitar) met at school where they formed their first band The Rapunzels. Rosemary went on to join the Ladybirds who opened for The Rolling Stones in 1965, whilst Shele got a job in a recording studio. In 1967 they came together again along with Sherry Hagler (Keyboard) and later joined by the extraordinary Liver Favela. Birtha had been gigging for four years playing on the west coast before they were signed. During their early performances they tested the water with their own material whilst throwing Motown and Rock covers into the mixture.
In November 1971, all-female blues rock act Fanny took off with their hit single Charity Ball. ABC Dunhill saw their chance and quickly signed up Birtha, taking up rank amongst label mates Three Dog Night and Steppenwolf. Birtha never earned the same commercial success as Fanny, though were both marketed as heavy rock. After two albums and a final single (a cover of Steely Dan’s Dirty Work) Birtha’s success waned and they were dropped by Dunhill before 1973 was out. For me, Birtha totally overshadow Fanny’s comparatively average blues sound. Birtha have huge rock appeal in a way that fanny just don’t, so Fanny, you can just get to the back of the queue and stay there!
Fanny’s label Reprise Records decided to brand their girls with the slogan “Get Behind Fanny.” Perhaps it was felt that rock audiences of the time would be put off by an all girl group. Whatever the reason, Dunhill would not be outdone and had to go one better with “Birtha Has Balls”. The slogan was a winner; especially when slapped onto their infamous T shirts. When they played the 1972 Rockingham Festival, members of Alice Cooper, Fleetwood Mac and the James Gang all chose to wear them for their own sets and revelers could clearly see the logo disappear from view as Alice left the arena hanging out of a helicopter still sporting his Birtha shirt. Oddly enough, Playboy magazine had a problem with the tastefulness of the Advert and refused to print the slogan on their matchboxes when they played at the Chicago club. Supporting the Kinks, Birtha hit the UK and even bagged an appearance in the British coffee table mag ‘Titbits’, posing topless on the front cover proclaiming “We want male groupies”. They were serious contenders who really lived up to their allocated metaphor, they are 100% women but there is no doubt that Birtha unquestionably has balls. I wish there were lots of all-female bands I could say cut it the same, but Birtha have to be my favorite all female band ever. They skillfully combine numbers which are gritty and heavy along side soulful blues numbers and ballads. They are seductive, solid, funky, from the heart sisters whose sound is unmistakably their own. Only Rosemary Butler went on to have a continuing career which disappointingly went in the totally opposite direction singing with the likes of Linda Ronstadt, James Taylor, Jackson Browne, and Dolly Parton.
BILLBOARD MAGAZINE - 9/9/72:
There is no getting around it. Birtha has it! They're an all chick group and we all know that you've sort of got to make allowances . . . well forget it, they project more power and drive than most male groups with similar instrumentation. The intensity and proficiency they exhibit is total rapture excelling both instrumentally & vocally. Rock on with "Free Spirit," "Judgment Day" and "Feeling Lonely."
This first eponymous album was produced by Steppenwolf’s producer Gabriel Mekler whose high credentials definitely work to their advantage. Birtha is a mammoth stomper and has to be the most powerful and versatile record ever made by an all-girl band. They got the same kind of groove as Grand Funk, heavy funk and blues laden guitars with crystal clear vocals, great harmonies and that all American sound. They are always bass driven; Rosemary has that deep humming sound that really pounds some seriously exiting energy into the songs. These girls are serious rockers; they kick the shit out of loads of male rock bands of the time and all time for that matter. Out of the four, three of them take lead vocal. For the main part though it’s Liver Favela, who has all the guts and rasp of Janis Joplin. With an abundance of untamed fervor, she is by far the coolest, and she’s without doubt the wildest singing female drummer you ever heard.  From: https://www.headheritage.co.uk/unsung/review/1439/

 

Mr. Bungle - Sweet Charity

I like to imagine that Mike Patton and the rest of Mr. Bungle got the idea for California by going on a vacation together to sunny Malibu, only to be greeted with an eccentric, disturbed cartoon version of the city. Shells of spent bombs litter the beaches, mutated and irradiated people walk the piers, and the ocean is an off-putting soylent green tint. A malignant, beating sun hangs over everything, threatening to scorch the earth with a solar flare tentacle at any given moment before burning out in a fit of spite.
Then it all turned out to be a shared fever dream that everyone remembers differently, but dedicates to tape in a sort-of Mad Libs version of artistic vomit, hence the absolute whiplash-inducing stylistic melting pot the album became.
Seriously, it would take a whole book to really delve into and take proper attendance of the myriad of influences and sounds heard here. One thing is certain though – it’s weird as hell; uncanny even for Mr. Bungle’s standards, whose previous album was an experimental rush of blood in the mid-90s.
Two years removed from what would be Faith No More’s final album until 2015, Patton just seemed to eurostep right into Mr. Bungle’s high-flying capers with California, an album that had no proper precursor and no successor since. Surf rock, doo-wop, space electronica, psychobilly; it’s incomprehensibly dense, risking haphazard levels of structure. At any given time, it always seems like a hop, skip, and a jump away from being the first album to be charged with disorderly conduct.
California is rife with themes of death, heaven, or an ‘end’ of some sort, as if implying The Golden State – or at least Mr. Bungle’s version – is where a lot of aspects of humans go to die. “Retrovertigo” is the death or severe repression of empathy in favor of profit and image as the instrumentation staggers drunkenly through sunburnt rock. “Ars Moriendi”, one of my favorite songs, translates from Latin to ‘the art of dying’, and is a surreal romp incorporating West Asian tones and instruments. An accordion tears through much of the track in a bid to keep up with Patton’s wild vocalizations and Latin chants – or perhaps it’s Patton trying to keep up. Like many other points on California, it’s hard to know which direction is the correct one – when asked, the album only responds with a cryptic ‘yes.’
“Sweet Charity” expertly riffs on lounge music, “Golem II: The Bionic Vapour Boy” is a trippy and plucky electronic monolith, much like the eponymous golem, and “Vanity Fair” is a doo-wop pop (doo-pop?) nightmare of self-flagellation with much too positive a mood for the lyrical content (this isn’t a complaint, as I love that kind of tonal disparity in music). The album seems to touch on almost all forms of contemporary music, both then-current and old.
Hell, there’s even flecks of metal if you’re desperately searching for the heavier side of Mr. Bungle. “Goodbye Sober Day” becomes rapidly unraveled as it goes from soft rock lightly coated in tropical themes and becomes devoted to Kecak chants and harder instrumentation. In this manner, the album chooses a ceremonial death – one not adherent to any perceivable culture or religion – though less of the body and more of the ego or hubris that could be found throughout California. One where the end of the rainbow was only concerned with self and not much else. Either that, or I’m wildly overthinking it.
That’s kind of the beauty of Mr. Bungle and much of Patton’s work – in search for a possible tongue buried in cheek, there’s genuine criticism and a fashioned theme to track as you listen to the enigmas they call songs. It’s like your brain needs a decoder to unlock the knowledge that the band may or may not have buried far, far below the substrate of quirky, but talented musicianship and a desire to dizzy anyone brave or unknowing enough to give their records a spin.
This all makes it weird, though also maybe prophetic, that this album also fueled a big feud between Mr. Bungle (chiefly Patton though) and Red Hot Chili Peppers (chiefly the band’s frontman, Anthony Kiedis). RHCP were kind of mad that Mr. Bungle named their album California when they had an album called Californication. Because, you know, RHCP invented California or some shit. The two albums were actually going to release on the same day, but Warner Bros. (the label for both releases) delayed California by a month and some change. Kiedis took things a step further by using his stardom and pull to get Mr. Bungle kicked off a handful of summer festival shows that RHCP were also playing.
Mr. Bungle fired back by ‘dressing up’ as the members of RHCP at a Halloween show in 1999 where they learned songs from Californication backstage at the set, drew on crude interpretations of the tattoos each RHCP member had, and went out there to do a full-on mock of them, complete with purposefully bad cover songs, and mimicking heroin injections on stage as an obvious dig at Kiedis’ drug problem. They were obviously pissed at the loss of income and huge exposure potential for the better part of a year, but this was juvenile and tasteless at best – don’t make fun of someone’s drug addiction, people. Then again, so too were Kiedis’ moves, so everyone took an L. This all likely stemmed originally from Kiedis thinking that Patton was stealing his style in their Faith No More’s “Epic” music video from 1990. You can read more about it complete with quotes from both parties over at the Bungle Fever fansite or on Mr. Bungle’s Wikipedia. In closing; Anthony Kiedis used Ego Trip. It’s super effective!
Anyway, yes, music. California being the swan song for Mr. Bungle is fitting given its themes. The album sounds like the sun not only setting on the band, but the world itself with its apocalyptic tropic wasteland interpretation of West Coast (really, American) idealism and isolationism. So many weird bands are indebted to this clown prince group for being so outlandish in their expressions, both artistically and performance-wise. Even with only three albums, they’ve proven to have more influence than other offbeat bands with double or even triple the discography. If none of it works for you, don’t worry – there’s a Mike Patton project for just about everyone. Good luck out there!  From: https://everythingisnoise.net/features/a-scene-in-retrospect-mr-bungle-california/

Amy Winehouse - Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

 

Amy Winehouse, the British singer who almost single-handedly revived a mass appreciation of soul and R&B, was found dead in her Camden home in London on July 23. Media in every form – blogs, magazines, newspapers – often scrutinized her abuse of drugs and alcohol instead of focusing on her unmistakable talent as a singer and songwriter. While the idea of a young person rising all too quickly to fame and crashing is alarmingly expected, the loss of Winehouse is still incredibly tragic. Fans and fellow musicians have posted their tributes, and here at Cover Me, we look back at a few of her stand-out covers in memoriam.
Winehouse’s career started at an early age after she dropped out of school at the age of 15 and she started performing her own songs at jazz clubs. By 2002 she was signed to EMI and in 2003 her jazz and hip-hop infused debut, Frank, was released in the U.K. The album contained two jazz covers:  Isham Jones’ “There Is No Greater Love” and James Moody’s “Moody’s Mood For Love.” Tracks like this garnered countless Billie Holiday comparisons for the young singer. The album itself did not gather much commercial attention with its initial release, but earned critical accolades and proved a fantastic start to what anyone who heard it was sure would be a long and successful career.
Shortly after Frank’s release, she covered The Shirelles’ “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” for the film Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. As if the two aforementioned covers did not already paint Winehouse as a painstakingly talented soul singer, this stripped-down version gave us a glimpse of the self-deprecating, honest, and lovesick traits that would make Winehouse’s next album. 2006’s Back to Black solidified her budding star status. The album earned six Grammy nominations and won five, including Best Pop Vocal Album and Best New Artist. She also won a slew of other accolades for the album, making it on nearly every major music publications’ “Best Of” list at year’s end. The first single, “Rehab,” gained massive attention not only for its undeniable catchiness, but also because of what in retrospect seems an early sign of her downfall. Oddly enough, one of the top songs Winehouse is known for is her rendition of The Zutons’ Valerie. The song appeared on Back to Black producer Mark Ronson’s covers album, Version. Rolling Stone called the track the only “notable recording” of Winehouse’s since Back to Black.
In 2008, a deluxe version of Back in Black was released, trying to maintain the hype while the world waited on a new record. Various editions included several covers, including Phil Spector’s “To Know Him Is To Love Him,” performed with his first group the Teddy Bears, and The Specials’ “Hey Little Rich Girl.” Unfortunately for fans, Winehouse’s addictions prevented her from completing another studio album. One of her final projects was a cover of Lesley Gore’s “It’s My Party” for the Quincy Jones tribute album Q Soul Bossa Nostra, which was released last November. The track epitomizes Winehouse’s media-hounded private life and her couldn’t-care-less-attitude about what others thought about her destructive lifestyle choices.
Now, in July 2011, Winehouse joins other musicians who died too soon in the 27 Club. It is easy to ridicule her seemingly-cliched and drug-infused life, but it should be remembered that it was her music that made her a star in the first place, not the addictions. Her songs were steeped with an inherent and genuine ache and punchy self-criticism that few others have been able to emulate.  From: https://www.covermesongs.com/2011/07/remembering-amy-winehouse-through-her-covers.html

Black Sabbath - Live Brussels 1970

 Part 1

Part 2

Black Sabbath - Live in Paris 1970 Directed by Jacques Bourton. This footage was originally shot at Théatre 140 in Brussels, Belgium on October 3rd, 1970 for Yorkshire Television. Bootleggers have long repeated a fictional claim that done in Paris, but that has long since been debunked. In any case, this is the earliest footage of a complete concert of Black Sabbath in existence. Here they perform many songs from their most recent album at the time, Paranoid, as well as several from their debut. Interestingly, many of the songs from Paranoid feature their original pre-album lyrics - or Ozzy had simply forgotten the new ones! The original show was split into two halves and includes some behind-the scenes clips of the band before the show.  From: https://letterboxd.com/film/black-sabbath-live-in-paris/

In Finland, it is customary to yell "Soittakaa Paranoid" ("Play Paranoid") at a live band. It's a riff on the bizarre American tradition of yelling "Play Freebird" (a heckling practice the late comedian Bill Hicks referred to as "the mantra of the moron") at a live band. And this is merely one of many stories related to Black Sabbath's 2:48 second metal masterpiece "Paranoid." The band's biggest hit of their entire career which, according to members of Sabbath, only came to be because they needed to make the album a bit longer. According to drummer Bill Ward, whipping the head-pounding jam together took less than 30 minutes. Other members of Sabbath have varied recollections. When listening to the recording, Geezer Butler (who wrote the lyrics), along with Ozzy were both unsure about "Paranoid," as it sounded very similar to Led Zeppelin's "Communication Breakdown." In a 2018 interview, Ozzy reiterated he wasn't even entirely sure what the word "paranoid" even meant at the time. Eventually, Ozzy asked Butler (much to the bassist's surprise) to explain the definition of the word to him in 1971. Oh, how the mythology and legend of Ozzy Osbourne never, ever disappoints – much like the history that went into making "Paranoid" and its enduring influence in metal, popular culture, and beyond. So, in no real particular order, let's get to the time Frank Zappa almost joined the band on stage in 1976 to perform three songs with Sabbath that he had previously learned to play. One of the songs was allegedly "Paranoid," a jam the band saved for their encores.
Frank Zappa was on team Black Sabbath early on, praising the band and specifically the song "Supernaut" from the group's 1972 powered-by-cocaine album Vol 4. As far as Sabbath goes, Geezer Butler was a Frank Zappa superfan whose life was "changed" after hearing Frank Zappa and The Mothers Of Invention when he was still a teenager. Tony Iommi spoke about Zappa's love for Sabbath's "Snowblind" (also Vol. 4), and detailed the events of the show at Madison Square Garden in December of 1976 – the night Zappa was set to take the stage with Sabbath (after learning three of their songs). The plan was devised during Zappa's annual Thanksgiving dinner which was quite the rock and roll shindig. Frank had invited Geezer and Ozzy to his special Thanksgiving dinner in 1976 during which conversation turned to Zappa joining Sabbath on stage to perform two songs, "Iron Man" and "Paranoid" during the band's encore.
Unfortunately, Sabbath wasn't at the top of their game that night. In addition, Zappa hadn't been summoned for the show's soundcheck. Zappa told his version of the night's events to Sounds journalist Hugh Fielder saying when he showed up, Tony Iommi was having issues with his guitar strings and, at the last minute, changed them out. At this point, the crowd of 20K had been milling around for over an hour waiting for Sabbath to get going. And though there was a stack of sweet Marshalls waiting for Zappa on stage, he would only end up introducing Sabbath that night. Iommi recalled things a bit differently, echoing the notion Sabbath was not in top form and advised Zappa that joining them would've been "disastrous." Recordings of the show exist and at least one unofficial release, where you can hear Zappa's banter including describing Sabbath as the "rockin' teenage combo known to the universe as Black Sabbath." Understandably, the crowd went fucking bananas. Later, Iommi would take in Zappa's show in Birmingham, during which Zappa and The Mothers launched into a cover of another of Frank's favorite Sabbath songs, "Iron Man."  From: https://metalinjection.net/editorials/back-in-the-day/black-sabbaths-paranoid-almost-didnt-make-the-record-the-compelling-history-behind-their-biggest-single

 

Queen Adreena - Taxidermy

Where once she shallowly proclaimed to love your money, Katie Jane Garside now wants more intangible things. These days she wants to haunt your dreams too. It’s been a torrid affair getting from there to here. After Daisy Chainsaw ripped apart, Garside was left close to breakdown and retreated to the hills as far away as possible from musical partner Crispin Gray. Reunited, and based on that frisson, Queen Adreena were always going to be a little out of the ordinary. Their return heralds a subtle, but fundamental, change in dynamics. Now writing her own lyrics instead of being Gray‘s mouthpiece, this time it’s personal. Sometimes disturbingly so. Because ‘Taxidermy’ is an apt title – this is about stuffing and mounting the psychological monsters that lurk under the bed. So, while carrying on Daisy Chainsaw‘s predilection for rock as infantile nightmare, here the scope is much wider than a one-track take on banshee pop. There are some obvious precedents, notably Bjork and PJ Harvey, but much more than either of those two reference points, this debut album is frequently akin to eavesdropping on psychotherapy. Veering between absolutes like love/hate, black/white, logic/madness, these songs walk a tightrope between serrated guitar lines and moments of twinkling repose. So ‘Yesterday’s Hymn’ is a genuinely beautiful, barely-there twist into trip-hop minimalism, while ‘I Adore You’ and ‘X-ing Off The Days’ grate with pain and churning guitars. With everything else straddled somewhere between these extremes, it’s uncomfortable listening, but raises ‘Taxidermy’ far above the simple world of sub-goth moves and ripped-up antique dresses of their past. ‘Are The Songs My Disease?’ inquires one title. Not on this showing – they might just turn out to be Garside‘s saviours from the footnotes of indie infamy.  From: https://www.nme.com/reviews/reviews-nme-2087-340874