[Originally published on Twisted Ear]
Before the Gold Rush: timely re-issue from Texan luminaries
Or “how I learned to quit worrying and embrace my wonky art rock past” as it perhaps should have been subtitled. To clarify: Milkmaid Grand Army is not Midlake’s eagerly-anticipated follow-up to 2006’s sophomore LP The Trials of Van Occupanther. It’s not even new material, but a re-issue of the Texans’ long-since deleted debut EP from 2001, pre-dating their Damascus-style conversion to pastoral, harmony-drenched Americana.
First impressions: hmm, this doesn’t sound much like Midlake at all, at least not in their latter-day incarnation. What it does sound like, (unnervingly so in places) is Radiohead circa 1997. Not surprisingly, as it turns out: the release of OK Computer represented something of a musical epiphany for singer/songwriter Tim Smith, who played the album every day for a year.
The result is seven tracks steeped in turn-of-the-century progressive rock stylings: multi-layered guitar parts, sparse piano motifs, distorted vocals. All it’s missing is the Nigel Godrich production credit.
Opener She Removes Her Spiral Hair gives an early indication of what to expect: a menacing guitar riff and insistent percussion leading into a sneering growl of a vocal which veers off in desultory directions. Paper Gown continues in a similarly downbeat vein, all brooding, woozy psychedelia, sounding to these ears like a lost outtake from Grandaddy’s stately lo-fi opus The Sophtware Slump. Excited but Not Enough and Roller Skate (Farewell June) see a welcome change of tempo, the former an adrenaline shot of dissonant bombast, the latter the sort of falsetto-driven drone rock patented by Clinic. Closer Golden Hour hints at the classicist sensibilities which were to follow, a mournful, minor key lament which owes an obvious debt to (yep) Radiohead's Exit Music (Theme From a Film).
Recent Midlake converts may find this EP hard-going and a little too self-consciously obtuse in flavour for their palates, lacking the obvious musical cohesion and songwriting élan which marks out Van Occupanther as one of last year’s most enchanting releases. While there's much to admire, it’s the sound of a songwriter too obviously in thrall to his influences to yet dare to transcend them. As a stop-gap release it represents an interesting insight into the band’s musical evolution, but one destined to remain a non-essential curiosity for all but the completist fan.
Before the Gold Rush: timely re-issue from Texan luminaries
Or “how I learned to quit worrying and embrace my wonky art rock past” as it perhaps should have been subtitled. To clarify: Milkmaid Grand Army is not Midlake’s eagerly-anticipated follow-up to 2006’s sophomore LP The Trials of Van Occupanther. It’s not even new material, but a re-issue of the Texans’ long-since deleted debut EP from 2001, pre-dating their Damascus-style conversion to pastoral, harmony-drenched Americana.
First impressions: hmm, this doesn’t sound much like Midlake at all, at least not in their latter-day incarnation. What it does sound like, (unnervingly so in places) is Radiohead circa 1997. Not surprisingly, as it turns out: the release of OK Computer represented something of a musical epiphany for singer/songwriter Tim Smith, who played the album every day for a year.
The result is seven tracks steeped in turn-of-the-century progressive rock stylings: multi-layered guitar parts, sparse piano motifs, distorted vocals. All it’s missing is the Nigel Godrich production credit.
Opener She Removes Her Spiral Hair gives an early indication of what to expect: a menacing guitar riff and insistent percussion leading into a sneering growl of a vocal which veers off in desultory directions. Paper Gown continues in a similarly downbeat vein, all brooding, woozy psychedelia, sounding to these ears like a lost outtake from Grandaddy’s stately lo-fi opus The Sophtware Slump. Excited but Not Enough and Roller Skate (Farewell June) see a welcome change of tempo, the former an adrenaline shot of dissonant bombast, the latter the sort of falsetto-driven drone rock patented by Clinic. Closer Golden Hour hints at the classicist sensibilities which were to follow, a mournful, minor key lament which owes an obvious debt to (yep) Radiohead's Exit Music (Theme From a Film).
Recent Midlake converts may find this EP hard-going and a little too self-consciously obtuse in flavour for their palates, lacking the obvious musical cohesion and songwriting élan which marks out Van Occupanther as one of last year’s most enchanting releases. While there's much to admire, it’s the sound of a songwriter too obviously in thrall to his influences to yet dare to transcend them. As a stop-gap release it represents an interesting insight into the band’s musical evolution, but one destined to remain a non-essential curiosity for all but the completist fan.
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