eat your robot

Now I’ll hold my hands up and freely admit that we haplessly forgot about this, buried as it was under a shed load of emails that we really will answer – honest – next week when we are off from 8 to 5 work hell. Contents of said email came from the hand of Michael Woodman – one time Brand Violet – best b-movie pop twang merchants you probably never heard and latterly – thumpermonkey – best prog band that the UK have reared since prog bestrode the fall out left by psychedelias fall out and splintering at the tail end of the 60’s – those wanting to question such conviction ought to check out the bands frankly jaw dropping ‘we bake our bread beneath her holy fire’ set from 2010. Anyhow missive read thus allowing for various paraphrasing ‘weird art rock band made up of members of thumper monkey and Godzilla black – channelling shudder to think, pixies, melvins – the genres hop a bit – there’s even a 3 minute pop doom track amid the EP’s grooves’. be truthful how could we resist. The band in question are called Eat your Robot, the EP just released entitled ‘that winning smile of dinner’ gathers together 7 intricate cuts that strangely enough find the collective crafting out a new species of progressive math, in a loose sense anyway, yes we can hear the Melvins to an extent (not least as evidenced on ‘not come and find me’) but what’s far more surprising and indeed engaging is that this manages to fuse together elements of Rush and Gabriel era Genesis while veering ever so close into flight path of Sound garden (’pickaxe‘ might be your first port of call in checking the similarity to the latter as it ratchets awkwardly through the gears zigzagging and shifting the melodic ground beneath your feet leaving you constantly on a back foot). If anything ‘that winning smile at dinner‘ might be best described as a pure theatre of psychosis – none more so is evidenced better than on the sets crowning glory ‘torso‘ which aside having our heads a turning provides a sub 5 minute descent into darkness wrapped creepily in the eerie slow coil of stoner sludge, whilst not threatening in all out aural assaults, there’s an unmistakable stench of something not quite right and unravelling fast at the core. No simplistic verse chorus verse framing here, rather more the melodic structures shift, lunge and collapse, one minute brooding and gouged in stoner motifs the next frantic and snarling to a beatnik blues scarring. ‘Abended’ the shortest cut of the set opens the account, a volcanic nugget navigating a precarious path that teeters on the edge of collapse, the riffs scowl and cool with a jabbing urgency that to these ears recalled a slightly ravaged and unkempt Marillion. ’chillblains’ is where your Rush-isms come into full focus, behind the locked down wall of snake winding spidery riffage a mini operetta forms wracked in seeping tension. Those doubting the bands kudos and sense of technical mischief when it comes to song craft ought to make ‘daily male’ their first stopping point, cleverly taking you forevermore up a series of cul-de-sacs and kissing it with pure Gabriel fantasia. As to the promised pop doom track – well we here are assuming this to be the parting ‘holy fallout’ – a raging feral storm warring bastard rippled in pure apocalyptic heraldry all primed and impacted with hot wired Maiden-esque motifs. Nuff said.


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