the longdrone flowers

Just out via the ever loveable small bear imprint, new three track nugget from the long drone flowers whose ear wear frankly ought to be decorating most self respecting listening spaces the nation over especially those preferring their sonic wallpapering coloured in monochrome hues that chill to some left field leaning austere detachment. The ’she’s strange head too’ EP gathers together a trio of edgy paranoia forming mantras that ooze with unsettling disquiet, leading the charge with ’quiet’ which arrives dulled in the kind of bleak chilling solitude that we here suspect has been somewhat baked in a Suicide oven with the attending ingredients – say the slithering essences of Public Image Ltd, the Walking Seeds and Ministry – all being kneaded into a desolate dough and harvested with the ominously bitter after taste of a youthful Clinic. We must admit a growing fondness for ‘wildfire and the non story’ if only for the fact that it had us fondly recalling nights huddled up aside transistors listening to the John Peel wingding and hearing said platter player miscuing discs at a variety of speeds. Anyhow this ’un drawls to a detuned groan and half speed lackadaisical mantra which unless I’m very much mistaken sounds like some lost gem from the Velvet Underground and Nico full length that somehow missed the final cut being played at the wrong speed all replete with the soft purr of 60’s harmonic mosaics though here subdued in an ever sinister stalker like malcontent. Just edging matters in the best cut of the set ‘my sister, Drusilla’ – a sub 9 minute voyage into the long drone dark heart crafted upon a lost droning primordial blues dialect that’s gripped with a raw almost ceremonial Apache-ian growl that flinches to a hollowed lo-fi prowl whilst gutted in a dour ragged and unforgiving early 80’s ‘perverted by language’ era Fall like obliqueness.

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