The popular music scene is positively crawling with bands proclaiming themselves to be the greatest thing since someome took a sharp cutting tool to that doughy mixture of yeast, flour and water. Such is the nature of an industry that often requires success above all else, particularly if the band in question wants to last longer than one album. So it's refreshing to read Things In Herds's website introduction: "It does feel somehow irresponsible to be adding to the unimaginably huge flood of music in the world today. Still, it's a fairly short album so it shouldn't take up to [sic] much room at the party. It's also pretty damn quiet, and should be more than content to hover in the corner and to leave fairly early. Without causing a fuss." This sweet sense of self-deprecation, of restrained self-awareness, is touching. The general sense is that, whilst other bands cry out for attention, demanding that the public sit up and listen to them, right this minute, Things In Herds are content to let the listener come to them.
'Nothing Is Lost' is the fourth album by the band, a leading member of the 'Fence Collective', the loose grouping of musicians based up in Anstruther, East Fife, and affiliated with 'Fence Records'. This particular album, however, is self-released (on their own 'G-Folk' label), and the ethos surrounding the album is certainly 'do-it-yourself'. Whilst abandoning the occasional electronica of previous album, 'Everything Has To End Somewhere', 'Nothing Is Lost' still maintains a lo-fi attitude. The album package that arrived at my doorstep, as well as containing the album on a blank CD-R, even had a hand-written postcard from Pete Lush, who alongside the intriguingly monikered Miss Ping, makes up Things In Herds, apologising for the "unsolicited nature" of the delivery. No apologies necessary, Pete, particularly when the content is so heartbreakingly beguiling as this.
'As You Were Ending' is sad. Very, very sad, in fact. Seemingly a goodbye to a departing lover, it nevertheless ends on a possibly (?) optimistic note, with the narrator 'setting out' on what is likely to be a rather lonely road, accompanied only by the last few notes of a hushed organ. The lyrics are, for the most part, concerned with similar themes of heartbreak, failed relationships and loneliness. The exception to this is 'You Know', the penultimate track, which appears to describe the waking moments of a couple, lying in bed; "Although nothing is endless/For now this is ours", a sweet ode to the immediate beauty of those moments shared together in a relationship. For once, the gorgeous harmonies of Lush and Ping are not at odds with the lyrics, but complement the content, and are ably supported by a piano line that crescendoes and diminuendoes wonderfully, completing this emotionally uplifting song. The piano also crops up in the sole instrumental track of the album (and the most instrumentally diverse of the album), 'Before You Go', whispery and sounding like it's being played from a distant and empty room at the back of an old manor-house. The spectral ambiance of the track is certainly not dispelled by the introduction of the theremin, six seconds after the start of the track, which carries the song's melody. The combination of haunting piano, sliding fret-work squeaks and theremin portamento creates a track that is beautifully unsettling.
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Elsewhere, 'That's All' starts off simply, driven along by an exquisite, finger-picked guitar melody line. More dynamic than the opening two tracks, with a scratchy snare drum beat underpinning everything, the song is later joined by Miss Ping's harmonica, giving it a 'mournful cowboy' feel, the sort of thing to be played alone by a campfire, surrounded by darkness. The harmonica also appears in the opening track, 'Once Were', a sound that had me immediately thinking of a small café tucked away down the side streets of Paris. Another track of note, 'Nothing Means A Thing', is a rather energetic, barn-shuffler of a track whose message, 'It's not important/If nothing means a thing', is positive, albeit in a rather nihilistic sort of way.
Coming in at just under 35 minutes of mostly acoustic, delicately-picked guitar melodies and hushed, dreamy falsettos, this album is a lovingly-crafted collection of melancholic songs, perfect for sharing with a loved one, or embracing alone, with a slight tear in the eye. A rewarding and under-stated release of longing, loving and losing, this is perfect for those quiet, reflective moments, late at night, with the rain lashing down, or for after the aforementioned party has finished, sharing the dying remnants of that bottle of wine with a few choice friends.
http://www.thingsinherds.co.uk/
http://www.myspace.com/thingsinherds
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