It’s been four years since “Sailing Mirrors” and that had some vivacious twists and turns, so expecting surprises here and there is actually quite expected.
Quite what is happening with the jazzy prog start to ‘Divided To The End’ is something of a mystery, but it soon settles beneath confident, regal vocals, spitting out a commentary on modern life, the devious view presented through all modern media, then back to weirdness for the finish, with jagged brass (Murray Robinson/Sam Wrigley), excitable bass from Jack Cooper and loopy drums from Dylan Riley. It all has a real swagger and minxy intent but is a strange hybrid.
‘The Lies’ oscillates quietly with Maeth’s pealing vocals, the bass standing guard. As the song mooches along the vocals take centre stage: “Today’s a great day said The Lie to The Truth, There is sunshine, let’s take a swim together. The undress and start bathing, until TheLie comes out of the water, puts on The Truth’s clothes and runs away ……….. The Lie rides across the globe, satisfying the world, who wasn’t ready for the naked Truth.” A creepy, insidious thing, as the idea requires.
‘The Sound And The Fury’, an optimistic view of a world rejecting manipulation, wriggles and wiggles in more traditional Goth style, Paul Nash’s nimble fingers darting everywhere, then ‘The Loop’ stumbles from a battered piano with demure strings (Marcjanna Slodczyk/Felicity Lloyd) into a poignant stillness, gradually shaken by resurgent guitar and vocal warbling, although remaining in essence a striking instrumental. ‘If You Were Only Listening’ has more sedate synth sorrow from Steve Dickinson, and the woes glow through the steady vocal delivery over idling bass, becoming restless with some breezy brass underlining the exasperation. It was a bit like something from a musical!
‘Algorithm Control’ is direct fun, spinning sourly (“Conforming, be them. Free thought, condemn. Zombie, brain stem. You are the ATM”), although it could have done with extra words. ‘Shake Shake’ is full of lush touches, channelling the ghost of Theatre Of hate or Gerry Anderson, twanging, drooping and yelping, with a slick chorus pushing through the lyrical revulsion. ‘Undone’ then unites everyone, including percussion stalwart Adam Scott, as they mournfully wander forward, and bleakness is all.
There is a linked sense of unease rather than a grand ‘concept’, and it’s only a shame there weren’t a few more songs as it’s all very strong. An album of mature reflection that their first albums couldn’t have handled.