wizards tell lies

You know how it is with these missives, mention a bands name in passing and up they appear. We’d like to pass it off as a tightly oiled editorial thing planned out meticulously to the last crossed t and dotted I, but hey 15 years of doing these missives and we still haven’t mastered the paragraph let alone punctuation and don’t even get me going on those squiggly little things that look like a wink. Wizards Tell Lies have been such a key part of our listening experience in recent years that they’ve become a kind of missive house band which in an ideal world would be fine and dandy but back on planet reality, a notion that would stall before getting to starting line mainly for the fact we have no space to put them, more worryingly no house unless of course you count the hulking oversized box that our last book order from A****n came in which now doubles as a bijou tree house which be honest the sight of three fellers shinning up the branches in wyrd animal masks hulking around various parts of salvaged UFO wrecks would be more than the neighbours could take and would cause, I fear, much consternation in the local parish council chess, crossword and soup night (Wednesday’s in case you fancied strolling along for). And so after that long preamble, Wizards Tell Lies. First of the new tracks is ’the house of alignments’ (appearing on a new set put out by the Chapelyard imprint – more about which in a second), in truth quite possibly unlike anything you’ve previously heard by the Wizards, this panoramic treat comes metered to a hypnotically 60’s styled darkly woven Barry-esque slice of ice sculptured noir supernaturalia that purrs beautifully fracturing into elements of the macabre and the mysterious as well as kaleidoscopically clipped in romance that falls somewhere between Komeda, Korzynski and Vannier stranded as were in the lair of Goblin. ’throws magic’ traverses a more familiar Wizards route albeit here stumbling upon a pulsating extra terrestrial carousel of strange delights powered and purring out clock working motifs possessed by the sonic signatures of BBC Radiophonic head girl Daphne Oram. Available via the Chinaman imprint and looming creepily is ’Clementine’ – a by all accounts re-reading of the old classic ’oh my darling Clementine’ though in truth you’d be hard pushed to hear if you hadn’t been told first. This deathly grim melodic mausoleum finds the Wizards consorting with Joshua Levesque for what it an eerily disquieting witching hour slab of deadheaded un-forgiveness from beyond the grave back dropped by the chilling recital like accompaniment of prowling bowed chamber chimes. http://www.wizards-tell-lies.co.uk