MODEL MORNING’S debut mini-LP is a six track multi-textured, FX-laden set of deep angst-ridden songs where lost loves are somewhere else in the labyrinth, and hang-ups are disparagingly aired with some justification. The surging, compressed spitfire is held together by little more than a warped, but linear chronology, allowing the abstract emotion to circle the subject matter with intent; ‘Without You I’m Lost’ & ‘Sinew’ are like two halves of the same twisted lament. The vocals are set alternately deep in the mix, or brought to the forefront to go head to head with the ear-splitting bass that drives the music ever forward.
‘Fashion Gay’ is a heartfelt rant, not about sexuality as such, but wearing your sexuality like body armour or a fancy-dress costume – thus alienating yourself along with many others who do better at presenting a more three-dimensional self to the world.
“That could be belonging/ What could be belonging?
Is it shunning all the rest?”
Powerful stuff. The vocal is twisted with utter frustration, and the tune misfires in fits and bursts of white rage as fingers drag along the fretboard like nails down a blackboard. Pauses for thought last a split second before the echoing melodies mirror mental confusion
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The hissing, cymbal-heavy 1/16 beats tap out an isolated metronome of fear and loneliness, providing a platform for psychosis that is self-reflexive and self-aware. Disparaging of the so-called ‘alternative lifestyle’, ‘The Worst of the Three’ is all scathing despair and comtempt. Muttered backing vocals and mantras precede a tidal wave of compressed guitars that swirl like dust particles illuminated by a single ray of sunshine.
The final 6 minutes builds slowly. God-fearing and self-loathing, paranoid to a fault. ‘Everybody’s Drunken Friend’ is straight from the fragments of coherence in between the blackouts.
Atmospheric, cynical, with something to say and plenty more to hate, these spaced out tales of bitter ugliness more than justify the warped psychedelia surrounding them. In short, there is substance: the hollow emptiness stays in the pit of the stomach, but the tunes are dense, full and destined to make an impact.
www.modelmorning.com
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