By Lost in the Riots
I've got a tiny wee mouth but the sound of instrumental post-rock/math act, Lost in the Riots, always gives me such an enormous grin. Kind of like I'd wilfully let the Krays give me a Chelsea Smile. But with a sugary piece of rhubarb instead of a rusty dagger. This is their new album...
'Move On, Make Trails', the second full-length album by the Watford-based quartet, kung-fu kicks the post-rock bar even higher than their (fantastic) debut album, 'Stranger In The Alps' did. Opening/Intro track, Niamh, unassumingly tinkles into life before settling into intricate, mathy noodlings and then a wall of guitars, bass and drums soundtracking a gang-vocal hymn. Suddenly there's a massive shout of 'Yo!' and you know there's no turning back. Not even for that tub of Xtra Screamin' Dill Pickle Pringles you meant to bring through to the living room before you started listening.
The following tracks on the album - She Can't See Us If We Don't Move, Kong, Dr Nightmare & Halcyon Days Of Summer then bash you wonderfully around the noggin with a musical pugil stick, cavorting around and into each other like sexy, naughty riotous lovers. Post-coital interlude track, Radiance (a guitar only part), gives us a quick chance to catch our breath (and pop back to the kitchen for those Pringles) before part two of 'Move On..' starts off with Homecoming. At first slow-building it then launches, like a beautiful golden rocket, into a triumphant crescendo of noise making you want to pump your fist into the air like you did at the end of the movie, In The Name Of The Father. Yaaaass!
The tracks, Hey Deathwish, Coney Island and Canyons follow swiftly, creating some kind of of super-bastard adrenaline in your body. The kind of adrenaline that make you feel that if Superman arrived at the door right now for a game of Rummy you'd beat him. Easily.
Suddenly it's all over, like your favourite holiday romance with that girl/boy called Trudi/Rod, with album closer Just Tiny Little Rocks. But not before your tapping feet and your nodding head have had the most awesome of parties together. Glorious, glorious, glorious.
This is the sound of Explosions In The Sky locked in a room with 8 litres of Coca-Cola. This is the sound of four men hitting dizzying, instrumental heights. This, my friends, is the sound of post-rock's future.