Atmospheric, sexy, classy, and disconcertingly eerie, THE FLIES self titled LP comprises a series of delicious, dangerous, and downright dirty tracks.
“Come into my house,” said the spider to the fly. Oh alright then...
The lust-driven, velvet sounding opening track, ‘Walking on the Sand’, seductively gyrates it’s way into the arena, setting the tone for the rest of the album. Associating sexuality with death, via imagery of the desert, it is both erotic and terminally creepy.
“Bitter Moon” by contrast, is a Ascroft-esque yearning piano ballad of epic proportions, whereas “The Temptress” has a quirky
film-soundtrack-from-the-50’s quality to it. Very strange and very dark. One wonders what world these musicians must live in. I imagine a world full of black velvet curtains, cravats, and smoking jackets.
One rapid change in tactic later and you’re faced with“One Less Heart Beats”, a cold, melancholy folk-inspired guitar song, which leaves a residual depressive aftertaste in your mouth when it finishes.
Just as you’ve resigned yourself to further assaults from the unhappy-stick, “In This World” comes on, and you cheer up because of the upbeat guitar riffs and sunny disposition of the music. Until you listen to the chorus, which goes “There’s nothing left/but getting old”. Ho Hum.
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In general, the songs are thoughtful and highly introspective, both lyrically and musically. Some of their tunes, like “My Atonement”, wander into the realm of beauty, as day-dreams can often do, whimsical and of little substance, but fleeting and gorgeous all the same.
Their sound is eclectic, but like most music, it brings to mind the work of other artists very easily. There is a similar feel to Cousteau in the orchestral arrangements of some of their songs, Richard Ashcroft in the vocals, and PJ Harvey in the general darkness in the sentiments. But beyond that, they’ve taken their music to an altogether murkier and more sordid place.
Needless to say, it’s a fantastic record to make out to.
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