Birmingham never seems to sleep, for some time now the scene has been prolific, brilliant, and among the various indie-pop explosions that pay homage (never with excessive reverence) to a legendary past, the Ivory Wave surely stand out. A fast-paced band that mixes clubbing culture with rock, house with indie music, and resulting in an audience stuck to their song by minute one.
Four girls who have put together various influences, all energic music, from punk that winks to pop, to some glam music with present design, and a post-punk that prefers interstellar trajectories to the avant-garde. The track we are listening has a riff that stays in our heads like a billboard placed in the right place in an imaginary city, where there is no rule and no gender gap, where we all would like to live.
“Bang Bang Bang” takes control of the listening slowly, rhythm and delirium, indie to the core but perfectly at ease in the present. Lauran Hibberd has the self-criticism of those who seem to know perfectly all the implications of making music in the digital age but has the cunning of not taking too seriously the context where she lives, and perhaps that’s the reason why she convinces us so much.
In this surreal and psychedelic “Merry-Go-Round” that projects us into a cosmos we know little or nothing of, a band from Brescia, dedicated to the practices of consciousness expansion with all means available (to them), plays a series of oblique, weird, freaky, and fevered songs.
Artificial Pleasure have pursued a formula that makes them well identifiable, in each track that has been released for two years now. An abrasive, leathery, and restless Synth-Pop, New Wave of the digital era with a groove ready to overwhelm us.
Where author rock meets brit-pop, in a horizon that widens while giving us a glimpse of a northern landscape full of suggestions, there is Ali Horn in his original environment, ready to make us dream with electric and acoustic rock, and an innate ability to hold the attention that comes from a long experience of busker in Manchester. A timeless romanticism, to celebrate a piece that you just can’t miss.
An incipit à-la Siouxsie & The Banshees, but the soul that slowly emerges from this brilliant quartet of Hull can’t be placed in a precise era of British pop. A caustic spoken-word singing, a torrential rain of lyrical guitars, the right balance of dark and light, the proportion of the spaces. Superb.