Top Ten Tracks from emerging UK artists 2017
As I shuffle through the dimly lit streets, over the carcasses of malnourished and sickly street vagrants, the smoke from the ceremonial book burnings clog my lungs, sending jets of black tar erupting from my oesophagus and spilling out down my emaciated chin. As I fall to my knees, the river of puss coloured sewage lapping at my skeletal thighs, I look up at two large, luminous faces staring back at me from a gargantuan banner with the slogan “Teresa and Donald are here to help you”.
I look up to the heavens, rain beating down on my weathered and windswept torso and howl at the sky “There is no God! No God would allow this! There is no God!” My hands fall to my side and beaten and world-weary, I weep for humanity and for the children who must attempt to blossom in the muddy swamp of post compassion, post truth, post philosophy Britain. “2017…” I gently sob “…you massive fuck”. As my lifeless body slips into the foot deep estuary of foul smelling excrement, a final thought enters my numbed and deceasing brain. “Having said that, there was some bloody great music though”
10 – The Orielles – Sugar Tastes Like Salt
With a crisp, coco infused outer wafer and a creamy and sumptuous inner circle, these delicious delights are a sure fire crowd pleaser and can really brighten up a conference on airing cupboard efficiency in Wrexham. Note of caution though, do not consider dunking as they will lose all structural integrity and disintegrate into dusty nothingness, spoiling both your brew and afore mentioned airing cupboard efficiency conference in Wrexham. Oh, yep, sorry, thinking of Oreo’s. Ah well, pretty much the same description applies.
9 – Joy Room – What’s Your Number?
Everyone has a conception of their own joy room. And mine is? Thanks for asking. Well, off the top of my head, it would be a meaningless conversation about compostable fridge magnets with a checkout operator in Holland and Barrett while receiving a calf massage from a Russian Orthodox Jew and watching ‘Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2’ with audio commentary and Taiwanese subtitles. Bit cliched but hey, the heart wants what the heart wants.
8 – The Blinders – Ramona Flowers
Far better than that stupid show on BBC where everyone attempts substandard Noddy Holder impersonations and we are supposed to care about a troubled, gun wielding pillock who runs around getting scared of World War One after it’s actually happened and who apparently has the capacity to outmanoeuvre his enemies while still drinking like a dysfunctional alcoholic and having all the emotive faculties of a lobotomised sea bream, come The Blinders.
7 – Goat Girl – Crow Cries
Crow Cries is a direct reference to crow tears, believed by many goth’s (and other black lipstick wielding sweat boxes) to be the key to everlasting distain and quiet disappointment – the goth’s life blood. Harvested from the tear ducts of crows and placed in a pipette, the goths administer drops of it directly into their pain glands through the partially permeable membrane of their transparent cries for attention.
6 – Shame – Concrete
Concrete enthusiasts, and indeed lovers of all that is all quick setting and gloopy, Shame do love a bit of the grey stuff. However, as Charile Steen screams “No. More. Questions.” in their impassioned chorus, it’s clear they’ve had enough of working as technical support at http://www.concreteandconstruction.co.uk “We want to talk about our music and all we ever get asked is how deep foundations need laying for semi-permanent portacabins” Eddie Green bitterly remarks. I’m sure this track will cement itself as a hardened favourite in their set. Ha ha. Willies!
5 – Low Island – Anywhere
Low Island’s oft comparison to Radiohead transcends just their ethereal tones and geographic starting point. At a post Pablo Honey show back in 1994 Felix Higginbottom, then dweeb, now dangerously sexual Low Island drummer, was lucky enough to catch a bead of sweat from Ed O’Brien’s lustrous brow. Using the almost too legit homeopathy method of repeatedly diluting the perspiration to almost oblivion, he administers it to his bandmates with a technique not dissimilar to a fecal transplant before recording sessions and live shows.
4 – Idles – Mother
Idles have recently had a whiff of controversy surrounding themselves. A dyslexic local vicar took offence to their name, affirming that the bible clearly states that the worship of other Gods and idols is forbidden in Christian dogma and if the lads wish to attend their regular harvest festival luncheon, they must change their seemingly sacrilegious name immediately. After realising the name was referring, in fact, to laziness, he also stated that sloth was a deadly sin and although they could attend the luncheon, they were banned from the bi annual inter-parish ping-pong tournament. A statement from the band read “We’d give it all up, the music, the awards, the adulation, just to be able to defend our 2016 tri-county championship table tennis trophy. Nothing means anything anymore. Everything is lost.”
3 – Cassels – War is a Really Clever Metaphor for Divorce
Cassels comes from the now forgotten French word ‘Casselles’, referring to a female castle. These castles were more resilient, better suited to battle and generally built of stronger stuff than the more common male castles. However they didn’t last for long as, according to French historian Jaques-Dominique Soilcock, “they got all fucking gobby and wanted, like, all the fellas to come home at like 10.30 even though they hadn’t seen that particular mate for like half a year and they’d only be asleep when they got in anyway.” So they were demolished.
2 – Her’s – What Once Was
“Hers, yours, ours? Possession is just a human construct man, a made up buzzword to keep the corporations in business” I screamed at the toddlers mother as I tried to prise the babybell from her daughters vice-like grip. It ended as badly as any disagreement could, with red wax and smashed up bits of processed cheese all over my corduroys.
1 – Drahla – Silk Spirit
Drahla, or Drahalla as it’s spelt in some ancient texts, is the lesser-known Greek God of monetising shoelace production. After a bloody war with Celotap, God of Velcro and Tippex, the victorious Drahla eventually settled down just outside Thebes, marrying a dismissive Belgian with a club foot and a penchant for beastiality.
In all seriousness though, this track is just so so special. The baying, conversational lyricism, reminiscent of a young Kim Gordon, is confrontational but nonchalant and the angular, discord of the guitar work keeps the track on a knife edge of atonal majesty throughout. Drahla, Silk Spirit is by a fair old way my track of 2017.
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