Even the most casual visitor to these pages couldn’t have helped notice that over the years of cobbling these missives together that Muse have never really figured or fared to any great extent, I’d go as far as to qualify that by saying we’ve never mentioned Muse period. Why you might well ask – though I’m suspecting you don’t really care for the answer – but I’m still going to tell you. It’s not that we don’t like them, it’s more the case that my listening habits have been tuned to another frequency, if truth be told I wouldn’t be able to recognise a Muse if it parked its arse in front of me wearing a big f*** off t-shirt with the words emblazoned ‘I’m a Muse song’ and then proceeded to beat me to within an inch of my life. Sure enough I’ve taken passing glances at reviews and stuff and I’ve been struck by reports of them being deemed space operetta psych prog talisman, elsewhere akin to the second coming and if rumours are to be believed in certain journals had extra-terrestrials been observing matters from afar then they’d have surmised that everything from world peace and a cure for athlete’s foot was possible through the merest earshot of one of their sonic canons.  And so we’ve survived in spite of our ignorance, the world still turns I’m happy to say – by and large – and no I don’t feel as though there’s a gaping hole in my life in need of some Muse. Why I ramble so is simply because we’ve just received an email from their press folk. Word abound of an album, ‘Drones’ be its name, there’s even a preview track that’s surfaced and wiggled its way through a security fencing that’d make most totalitarian countries seem positively carefree and welcoming to outsiders with grinning open arms – the track goes by the name ‘psycho’ – a full on stripped back bare to the basics growler. Now if you’ve bothered to check out the comments attached to the video you’ll note that this cut has split the ranks and while it would be the easiest thing in the world to attach ourselves to the grudging bandwagon, truth is we actually like what we hear. Agreed its two minutes too long (this I hasten to add coming from someone who has patiently sat through 20 minute Nicaraguan nose flute solos and found something positive to love), but this sludge grinning schizoid juggernaut veers down hulking behind it a grinding heavy blues motif grizzled upon a flame hot locked groove which owes more to primal scream and comes speared upon a nagging industrial throb replete with a road cruising beatnik swagger that pretty much appears to ape the kind of eargear that populated headphone spaces when the grunge bomb imploded and the party moved swiftly to money making and MTV which only leaves me to say so that’s what they sound like – cue complaints and death threats no doubt.


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