You have to love a band who can reference pop (or otherwise) culture, and do it well: Graf Orlock made their entire fame on it. Coventry’s Even Flowers Kill begin, on paper, in very good books with me: with an EP titled in reference to the enigmatic Schrödinger’s Cat and a Fight Club reference in the title of I am Jack’s Smirking Revenge. The music, from its offset, is no disappointment either: Ruth has Information That Will Destroy You starts with delicate candour – a sonar-esque sound is emitted from what I can only assume to be an effects-laden guitar or synth, whilst a five-note lead part is played above it. After forty seconds, a gentle ascension in volume reaches its peak and is met with a gut-wrenching scream amidst the introduction of pounding guitar chords and drums. A second of chaos, and the prior delicacy is restored. And again. And again. This is repetition, but not repetitive: the juxtaposition of heavy and soft serves merely to keep the listener guessing as to the intention of the band, and fortunately for the impatient, this is soon made clear. Chugging rhythm parts intertwine with the smooth lead vocals and more harsh background screaming. It’s a rich, complex texture befitting of a band labelling themselves as ‘experimental’. Fast-paced, technical drumming is demonstrated throughout, and never seems to let up. There is an almost ska-like instrumental section at around 2 and a half minutes into the song, which the lets into the viscerally of the song prior to this point.

I Love You Kerry McKenna, Please Come Home is immediate. To say the least. In fact, immediacy may be too loose a quality to use to describe the sheer intensity and suddenness of the musical onslaught which comes from the outset. A scream-chant dichotomy is established ridiculously quickly and takes the form of a question-answer-question-answer dynamic rhythmically. It is divine noise; it is a waking call to the gods themselves. Sensitivity is not a quality which this song is devoid of however: the silky lead vocals make an appearance again, and it is Good. We face another transition into the heavier side of the band’s music once again, and another question-answer session is set-up between smooth and hoarse. An Envy-alike talking vocal session finds a home here, and it fits so well with the pauses in guitar playing.
Dick Wang is a Stinking Liar: a scream followed by the almost archetypal shredding of guitars into harmonics which can only be considered unholy. It’s really a horrible sound, but one with an almost pitiful appeal. Once again, we see the ever-transitory movements between heavy and soft; smooth and grainy. It has to be said that this song is truly the weakest on the album, with no real innovation present, but it’s still pleasant to listen to, even if one does feel that one has heard it all before. Machiavelli vs. The Little Prince is a step back onto the Path of Righteousness for the band: slight syncopation in rhythm and bright, trebly guitar leads introduce the cacophony which is bound to come. And when it comes, it truly does come: it comes with no ability to relent. Screams, bass drums, deep riffs: they all find a home here. A chant which can only be described as ‘epic’ develops and carries the song along to its conclusion, even in its absence. Clever little lead parts come into and out of hearing with a technical bombasticity bordering on the pretentious.

I am Jack’s Smirking Revenge caused me to become Jack’s sense of glee and mirth: blending technicality and brute force will do that for me. And I think that there’s an accordion in there. Whilst some of this EP borders on the hackneyed and overdone, there’s more than enough innovation to tide anyone over, and more than enough to make them winners in my eyes.

Instrumental and minimalist music are two genres which are somewhat of a taboo in certain circles: it’s seen by far too many to be the case that music has to be immediate; music has to be loud; music has to be fast. The Winter League pretty much serve to define the veritable opposites of all of the above ‘requirements.’ Here was see progression, subtlety and low-tempo music executed with a sense of freedom which could be considered irresponsible. Nods towards Efterklang abound through their use of esoteric percussion and almost choral vocals. Even at their most monotone, the vocals are expressive beyond that of many bands/artists generally accepted to have music defined as capable of eliciting emotion. Far from one trick ponies, The Winter League also compose music to suit film, and do so with a great competency. If folky, indie-esque minimalism is your bag, The Winter League are definitely to be your cup of tea.

There is something beautiful about bands which can (at least) claim to have a diverse range of influences, no matter how far from the truth that statement may be; and with Maybeshewill, I’m not even sure if ‘varied’ is a strong enough word to define their vast array of musical tastes. They draw parallels between the aggressive likes of Envy, Botch and Isis and the more laid-back likes of Radiohead and the Postal Service. On paper alone, this combination of influences meshed together may seem like an effort fraught with an inherent element of overambition, if not sheer impracticality; but in its practice, it is the best elements of all of the above in a package of divine execution and wonderfully displayed musicianship.

Ixnay on the Autoplay starts the album in a relaxed, synth-y manner reminiscent of Meanwhile, Back in Communist Russia: it’s one minute, forty-two seconds of keyboard work, leading into a pattern of a synthesised drumbeat. Seraphim and Cherubim, our track two, practically demolishes any predictions made as to the direction of the album to come from Ixnay through its immediate change to ‘real’ drums and a treble-heavy tremolo-picked guitar part screaming of Red Sparowes; as well as a later, heavier guitar riff being a passing nod to certain members of that band’s previous incarnation in Isis. Instrumentation remains tight, with keys, guitar, drums and whatever other synthesised sounds that they may be using blending, intertwining and supporting one another to produce a rich texture.

The Paris Hilton sex tape is thoroughly disappointing; Maybeshewill’s The Paris Hilton Sex Tape, however is a musical tour de force, with Mineral-esque hypnotic trebly guitar riffs paving the way for chugging basslines and guitar chord progressions. The drumming ability of the band is plainly demonstrated through the reduction of the song from full-band to mere drum and bass skeleton at around a minute into the song. Once again, keys compliment pounding guitar riffs in a manner incomprehensible but still amazingly simple, akin to most human expression: this is a perfect example of the emotion which can be expressed through instrumentation alone, without the pained whinings of a vocalist over it. I’m in Awe, Amadeus is a showcase of drumming ability from its start, with the fast-paced playing accompanying an endlessly falling-and-rising guitar line to the introduction of a key solo and then a more rhythmic guitar line.

We Called for An Ambulance but A Fire Engine Came demonstrates the band’s more post-metal side, with acute guitar highs meeting with obtuse guitar lows to form an all-around accessible outcome. After around a minute, this initial energy of chugging guitars and pounding drums descends into a sustained guitar chord gently fading and a key and synthesiser dream-like sequence. It’s ethereal beauty in simplicity is interrupted shortly after by a more electronic drumbeat and that wonderful rhythm guitar tone them seem to have created for themselves. Heartflusters is the first showing of the band’s vocal intentions, and it has to be said that they aren’t amongst the best of all bands: unfortunately, it does seem whiny above the delicate (and oh-so delicious) synth beats below. In fact, at three minutes in, there is a godly breakdown into a glitchy drumbeat, the likes of which I have not seen demonstrated better by even the venerable 65daysofstatic.

C.N.T.R.C.K.T is an immediate, bouncy, energy filled track which plods along by sheer virtue of its own will, it would seem from its insistent rhythm. He Films The Clouds Pt. 2 could be used as a definition for the concept of mixing delicacy with beats which could only be described well as either ‘tasty’ or ‘harsh’. Piano and strings meet with the technical drumming which has underpinned so much of this album so far in a manner bordering upon the symbiotic. The vocals which come later on in this track are wonderful, especially compared to the disappointment of those earlier, given their build up to that point. From the sole female voice to the full chant over that wonderful glitchy drum sound, the vocals are well balance and well executed in terms of tone and texture.

Not for Want of Trying, as well as being the title track, is the only song on the album I can even venture at the concept behind: the sampling of the 1976 film Network points at an acute socioeconomic awareness: Maybeshewill knows about our global recession. Musically, it is demonstrative of their dichotomic, loud-soft dynamic usage of their keys and guitars separately and is a constant ascent and descent rollercoaster of musical amazement. Takotsubo rounds the album off quite nicely much in the way that it started: delicacy once again is the order here.

This band is a revelation for the West Midlands area: they experiment with sounds that other local bands seem to be afraid to. We have glitching, chanting and piano solos all one album, and that is an achievement sofar as demonstration of diversity in music is concerned. It’s a wonderful combination of the best elements of post-rock (like Envy’s Chain Wandering Deeply), experimental electronic music (just think Aphex Twin) and even hardcore in some of the chord progressions and harmonic usage (think pageninetynine). All in all, this album demonstrates music visionaries in the early stages of what I hope to be a long career. If the sound can evolve from the originality which it already displays, I can see no upper bound for the potential of this band.