Ghost To Show

Most eye-grindingly annoying phrase for me this week: "The single got to number four in the top twenty". No it never, it got to number four in the top everything, what's the point of bringing twenty into it, you feebleton? It got to number 4 in the top whatever number you care to name that isn't one, two or three, right? Right! Prick.

Hope you're all well.


PHANTOM THEORY/ GUNNING FOR TAMAR – SPLIT SINGLE (A Mother Python Records)

There is probably nothing on this earth as indie as a split single. Not a plastic hairclip, not a hand-made fanzine, not a nursed pint of cider, not even an inability to deal with elementary social niceties. The split single talks of shared ideals in a hostile corporate world, it points towards impoverished yet dedicated artists sharing the financial burden of pressing, and it occasionally hints at musicians who are too ramshackle to even manage two tracks worth releasing.

But why release a split single now? Now, when the finances and mechanics of doing so are much less intimidating, when your one good song can, indeed, be released on its own for download without anyone feeling short-changed. Presumably it’s because two bands feel a deep affinity, so it’s odd when the links aren’t immediately obvious to the listener. Behind the gorgeous sleeve of this CD (an ink drawing of a Napoleonic horse’s head perched precariously above two street-sweeper’s carts) lurk two very different bands.

Phantom Theory is the tougher of the two, with a wiry awkwardness in the guitar lines and a heftily bludgeoned drumkit revelling in some neat Fall meets Sonic Youth bashing. “Trancedog” has one foot in the hasty garage maelstrom of early Jon Spencer and manages to give a paucity of lyrical content some sense of narrative with some dense dynamics. “Playground” is intermittently a little like Nirvana’s “Love Buzz”, albeit with the stabilisers just removed, and a feeling of defiant, wobbly chutzpah. These tracks are unlikely to demand the opening of a new wing of the Rock N Roll Hall Of Fame, but they may well soundtrack a fair few opened beers, which is good enough for us.

Gunning For Tamar are more self-conscious. Their titles are needlessly ornate and the playing has a straitlaced repressed fell that robs some of their potential power. There’s a yearning neo-emo feel to “The Organs. The Senses. The Muscles. The Memories” a little like a miniature Biffy Clyro, and a fast fading recollection of Intentions Of An Asteroid. It’s a decent track, but never really lifts off or feels as visceral as the title would imply. The superior “Norse Blood” lashes into a strange rockin’ canter – it’s like a cross between Iron Maiden and Billy Mahonie. Well, not really, but it is an intriguing little tune whose repetitions are half art twiddling and half dumbass mall rock. Either way, it’s not as desperately emotive as “The Organs…”, and we’d like to hear more.

It’s a strong release for two newish local acts, but, if you want to be old fashioned about it, Gunning For Tamar are definitely the B Side to this single. Of course, the truly indier-than-thou would always listen to the B Side at least as much as the A, eh?