aaamusic | On 29, Aug 2011

Sublime: elevated in nature or style, to change from solid to vapour directly, lifted or set high. ‘Disorientation’, the second album from Deep Cut fits every definition, as it flits from strong to spectral and back again with charm and wit and buckets of shoegazey, dreampoppy goodness. Stemming from a long story and a musical pedigree, this band are tight for such an ethereal lot, and above all, highly promising.

 

Opener ‘Inner Star’ is a blissful, shimmering track, brining to mind Johnny Marr’s work with The Smiths, as well as The Cocteau Twins and Lush, in its mistlike guitar lines and echoing female vocals, all held in place by gently swaying bass and subtle percussion, building and falling in a wonderfully organic fashion that leaves the listener with little doubt as to the band’s ability to deliver, as it tumbles from melodic to feedback and back again with mesmeric finesse. To follow, ‘Dead Inside Your Heart’ has a cocky pop rock stomp to it that evokes earliest Cure material, or what The Glove would have sounded like if it had occurred during that time. Hooky yet with its head in the clouds of fuzz and echo, such a sunny track feels at once out of place and yet at home in whatever speakers it finds itself in, as the sugary vocals croon a bittersweet melancholy, and the lead guitar jangles a strangely catchy riff. Similar to the first track, single cut ‘Something’s Gotta Give’ calls out ghosts of early Cure and Jonny Marr, blending sunny melancholia with a guitar sound that feels like it may be related to the immortal riff of ‘How Soon Is Now’, after a dizzy night out with ‘Wrong Number’ to create a near-irresistible gem.

We tread slightly more familiar ground with the dizzy urgency of ‘Next Disaster’, a fast-tempo number that retains the fairylike vocal charm of its predecessors yet adds into the mix a haunting wail of guitar squall and a bassline like a runaway funk train as the drums skitter over rapid snare batters and a surprisingly solid rock beat. However, the horn section and post-breakdown poppy instrumental adds another dimension to the track that lifts it. ‘About Face’ has a sonically bitter tone to it that creates a delicious pocket of attitude that marks the pop on ‘Disorientation’ as quality, in its sardonic dreaminess. ‘The Letter’ likewise is drenched in fuzzy echo yet is a whip-smart, sharp little number.

There’s a mesmering, subtly cybernetic funk afoot on ‘Decision Time’, what could be Talking Heads for those of us who’ve adopted cyberspace as an additional parent. Largely instrumental, the tight rhythm guitar chords tick alongside metronome percussion like an organic drum machine and an expansive, evocative keyboard drone. The vocals aren’t so much vocals as a pure instrument in themselves, as they layer featherlike over the sounds, bringing some Cocteau Twins into mind. Contrasting heavily is ‘Makes Me Wanna’, which ratchets the whole thing up several gears with a sound that is like the Jesus And Mary Chain with a machine gun on drums, like the ghost of punk tracks past wailing through your walls on a Friday night. The Cure-isms return in the buzzing guitar and lacy keyboards of ‘Cruel Reminder’, a gossamer yet lush track that embraces the ears of all nearby.

There are weaker points, however, notably ‘Magazine’, a new-age track that almost reeks of patchouli in its directionless filler feel. However, I feel like I’m poking holes in the structural faults of the Hackney Empire. No it isn’t flawless, but it is without a doubt rather special. ‘Out Of Nothing’ slows us to a lull, six minutes of winding down and unfurling phantom emotion in its incoherent yet heart-touching spectral vocal sounds and melody courtesy of glimmering keyboards and lilting guitar/bass, before ‘Another Look In The Mirror’ leaves us with a buzzing psychedelic fever-dream, once again injecting JAMC vitality and hints of kinship with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Ringo Deathstarr, who are contemporaries not to be sniffed at, as well as a shot of space age krautrock that heats it up with hypnotic fervour.

 

‘Disorientation’ brings to mind all the names I’ve dropped and then some, but to call it derivative would be a lie: Deep Cut may wear several bands on their sleeves, but they don’t fully sound like any of them. They sound like Deep Cut, and Deep Cut play a captivating dreamscape of delights.

 

Author: Katie H-Halinski