London’s General Khaki teeter precariously between being affectedly irritating and yet strangely fascinating. So bare are their sounds that anything less would equal that famous ‘piece’ by John Cage. Tommy Mack’s Telecaster tribulations that favour one string motifs are so wiry that it makes the chops of Joy Division’s Bernard Albrecht seem warm and elaborate. Silly chants (including an ad nausea refrain of “General Khaki!”) and riffs so starkly simple mean that you end up captivated whether you like it or not. How entertained or conversely imprisoned your senses feel may depend on how playful your disposition is and by how far angled you like your post-punk.
The cheese factor of young things L Dopa can be justly equated slipping on a wet floor and careening head first into a dairy produce refrigerator but there’s no desire to ring Claims Direct. One track sounds like Motorhead doing the soundtrack for Wacky Races. The rest sounds like The Wildhearts tangling with some sleazy garage and possibly Green Day which isn’t so far from the former description. Neither mature nor particularly novel L Dopa are still as expected, a fun partner to wrestle with. Each song is fuelled by a reckless exuberance available only it seems to the youngest of youth. Insidiously catchy you can expect to have hands the venue over tapping on tables involuntarily. A little less of the polyfiller guitar solos and predictable Brie and we could have contenders to crown that Ash picked up in their ‘Trailer’ days.
You could plug the Mid-Atlantic Trench with the number of acts prepared to steal the sounds of Explosions in the Sky and Godspeed wholesale. Essex’s Redjetson take a clear lead from the originators but do what so few others dare and actually input a few codes of their own. The pensive moods and expansive landscapes are familiar but Redjetson tighten them until the pips squeak. No note or dynamic is squandered here. Seldom does a song ever outstay its invitation. Redjetson operate like a veteran unit motivated by a few guerrilla ideas of their own squeezing as much emotion from within the framework. That fatigued post-rock formula is given a new contract of life through proper melodies and distinct choruses. Redjetson still think with the customary box but it is a box well filled.
Then the proverbial vessel bursts as we witness what has to be one of Britain’s most vital and free-thinking acts. Their uber-intricacy and radical tendencies have divided opinions like the right to euthanasia. Some will always fear change. Audiences stormed out of the concert halls during early airings of Stravinsky’s greatest works. But like one of David Lynch’s more esoteric pieces an open mind will let the art safely guide you on a wild and inspiring journey. Youthmovie Soundtrack Strategies (the name itself is a statement of intent) aren’t one guiding vision for the future. They don’t represent one whole truth but possibilities and in this case a whole range of them. Time signatures may change more often than an obsessive compulsive’s socks but it isn’t gratuitous. It’s just an example of how conventional song parameters can be stretched while still maintaining a human connection. Queasy meters may not feel entirely comfortable but the desire to interpret the music through physical movement (i.e. the definition of dancing) is still prevalent. YMSS feel different but that doesn’t mean it feels alien or unfriendly. Some of their older more typically post-rock material runs side by side their newer, more challenging and innovative material. The whole stop-start dynamic is taken to a new dimension with all four members stood beside each other singing along a cappella as if to celebrate the return of hero; something that humankind has done since prehistory. It all comes round full circle sounding avant-garde and as primal as possible. Fear not.
It’s a great name and while it’s hard to pinpoint the exact origin of The Permissive Society their sound is a little less exciting than the prospectus. Seemingly AC DC meets The Stooges but thankfully not it some crass Datsuns-like fashion, guitar work is surprisingly inventive and typically ballsy. Frontman Sean yelps impressively like Colonel Kurtz had he joined a band rather than a rebel liege. Nevertheless while the sound is a slightly unusual mix, it comes out sounding somewhat legs akimbo rawk and a tad more conventional than expected which is bit of a shame, really.
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