‘So Close’ is the 7-song debut EP from TWILIGHT ROBIN that you’ll have to get hold of through the band themselves – but you’ll be really glad you did. Go and contact them, or turn up to see them play, but do get one. You won't be disappointed.
The outstanding job done goal side of the desk by Ben at HITOY studios is apparent from the first listen. All of the songs benefit fully from his superb production skills (not to mention some odd influences collectively). There is a cautious, caustic approach, but the head rushing combination of stomping beats and staccato harmonies capture the combination of venom and vulnerability that comes in waves from Ben Ballon’s songs. Single-minded to the point of obsession, there’s a real Do Not Trust ethic in places. Tension therefore tends to flow like a nosebleed everywhere, as the dizzy delivery pours with introspection until it causes heads to slowly turn.
Delightfully, the naked street-screaming paranoia is allowed to run riot on either side of the creative process – it’s rare that you see such an individual freak-out in ‘real-life’ broad daylight any more – but how many people can you see who are kept teetering close to the edge? Troubled minds, awkward delusions and tension levels are unpredictable
The Hammond organ keyboard sound is in turns delicate and dangerous, and the percussion is spot-on as ‘Radio Song’ and ‘Two Sides’ are fair hammered out. Frequent changes in tempo give each track an unsettled feel and huge pauses for effect add to the epic nature of the group’s sound.
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Overall, the sound is conventional, but it’s incredibly absorbing. Opener ‘Two Sides’ is a lurching stomper with a cynical focus that screams out uncomfortable truths.
‘So Close’ could refer equally to a love affair or the dangerous proximity of the band at this point to 1980’s shoulder pad hell. Some song titles mislead. ‘Ordinary Life’ is still theatrical! From the delicate cymbals and series of false starts, you feel the panic. In some ways it’s like what would happen if the kids from Fame had control of your mind.
The stuck-in-a-rut self-centredness of ‘All Of This Time’ suppresses a bubbling piano and distorted guitars. These are epic yet delicate songs; low happenings are reworked into huge and dramatic numbers, but they never lose touch with the basics of popular appeal
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