aaamusic | On 15, Nov 2011

There’s a chance that London/Essex’s atrociously named Bleeps might be one of the most cunning bands of our time. When one thinks about it, it’s an ingenious idea, put together a band and make the musical direction so pointlessly eclectic that somewhere, some people are bound to like it, and keep you in business for life because no-one else will ever sound like that. It works because you can be as shit as you want to be, no-one will ever come along to compare. At least, this is what I hope is the case, because if it’s not, then as we speak, the three guys who make up the Bleeps seriously consider “The Pigeon Detectives murdering Beck” to be great idea. How wrong they are.

 

These songs are utter messes from start to finish. From Half Broken Things’ bass lead rush to Fuck Me I’m Famous’ baffling whistle hook, none of it makes sense, and not in the good way,  in the way that one doesn’t understand how they could possibly be good ideas. And then lead goon Remy Lamont starts to rap. Some things were just never meant for human consumption. What makes it worse is for some reason they were booked to support The Specials. So maybe I’m wrong. I’m not, but maybe.

 

Will Howard