| Kamikaze |
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The title of Melys' second album may suggest that they're ready to go
out in a blaze of glory but, really, this North Wales avant-pop foursome
holds much more of a slow-burning appeal. Drawing in equal parts from
the prim, understated dysfunction of Black Box Recorder, the foreboding
atmospheric gloom of Portishead, and the sultry goth chic of Garbage,
Kamikaze stands far removed from the glut of identikit Taff bands operating
in the wake of Catatonia, Stereophonics and Manic Street Preachers. In
the same way that Gorky's Zygotic Mynci so thoroughly redefined their
reference points, Melys transcend such easy comparison. "Then There Was
One" wraps its skeletal, lo-fi framework in elegant lounge-jazz organ,
with vocalist Andrea Parker icily whispering a narrative of sorrow, heartbreak,
and gestating bitterness from deep in the shadows. Kamikaze might not
be hell-bent on revenge, but it certainly finds the victims plotting dark
methods of reprisal. Second album of twisted electronic pop from Betws-y-coed, North Wales.
Scary. When an album from a Welsh four-piece lands in your lap, you must abide by the Murry The Hump commandment: Thou must not reference albums by Welsh bands only in terms of other Welsh bands. So there's no need to mention the fact that opener `Protect and Survive` sounds like the non-shouty bits in `The Man Don't Give A F***`. Or that `Kamikaze`s wibbly, super furry noises will satisfy fans of Gruff's quirky pleasures. Instead, let's mention their vitriol. Singer Andrea Parker will lull you and lure you with her sweet, Beth-Portishead-twatting-Harriet-Sundays vocals. Then the bitter, angry lyrics will have you reeling. "I'm messed-up, cruel and spiteful/A hard-nosed bitch/A Psycho/Gonna take it all out on you," she near-whispers on `Baby Tornado`. I shudder to think what the two songs on `Kamikaze` sung in Welsh are about. Amid the verbal violence, the tunes are just Siren-like. There's more souring, filthy, punchy pop than you can shake a stick-with-the-rotting-remains-of-Kenike-dripping-off it at. Ladies and gentlemen, Melys. More likely to duet with Mogwai than with Tome Jones. Hopefully. A bit like? Glen Close wearing a `Catatonia Are Shite` T-shirt in `Fatal
Attraction 2: Alive In Snowdonia`. Kamikaze is Melys’ second album. Their first, 1998’s Rumours and Curses, was a disjointed affair, brilliant in places such as the single Diwifr, but more a collection of songs than an album. Two years on, Kamikaze has a much greater continuity, it grows in confidence from start to finish. Its characters move from the depraved, through the belittled and the vulnerable, to the confident and brash. Kamikaze is more reminiscent of a film score than of another band I can think of. In fact even after a few plays it’s very difficult to see where Melys’ influences lie. The songs are constructed of very heavy, very dark instrumentation, overlaid with Andrea’s beautiful, otherworldly vocals. The effect can be both scary, such as the feral first track Protect And Survive, and endearing, as on You Should Have Been There and Waiting To Fall. Of the 12 tracks on the album, two feature welsh vocals. Much has been made recently of other bands who have chosen to record in Welsh, but surely there is no language as poetic. It is perhaps typical of the album that most listeners won’t understand those tracks, because it is very much Melys’ album. 11 of the 12 tracks were recorded at their own studio (the other in the kitchen at their local restaurant, the head chef receiving a credit in the sleeve notes for ‘ambient noise’!), and it will be their third release on their own label ‘Sylem. Nothing on Kamikaze made me sit up quite like the aforementioned Diwifr, but as an album it is most certainly a step forward. |