by Dan Goldin (@post_trash_)
Take our word for it, Leeds’ Blacklisters are the best noise rock band on the planet. Hell, they may just be one of the best bands of any genre, but near anything I saw about them will sound like hyperbole (it isn’t), so perhaps just have yourself a listen. We’re only a week away from the release of their third full length album, Fantastic Man, their first new LP in five years (with a great stop gap EP in 2017). The band continue their masterful approach at remaining willingly off the rails, but they do it with menace void of machismo, aiming just about all their efforts at showing just how dumb being tough looks.
Due out August 28th via Learning Curve (US), Buzzhowl (UK), and A Tant Rêver Du Roi Records (EU), the album is a heavily nuanced version of everything we’ve come to expect from the quartet - disarmingly slurred and blood curdling vocals that stumble between deadpan hilarity and a sardonic look at society, impenetrably dense rhythms, and guitars that feel both discordant and violently melodic. It’s primal and yet brilliant. Corrosive but lacking self-seriousness. The band have a sense of humor and it’s a great one. The album opens with “Sports Drinks” and ends with “Mambo No. 5” (which is… not a cover). Nearly every line drips in sarcasm, a constant needling of self-important people. You’ve never quiet heard a song rip so damn hard and start with the line “I’ve got a strange face, look at my strange face.” Dare I say, it’s another biting classic.
Which brings us to the record’s third single, “Le Basement,” which we are thrilled to premiere over here in the US. One of the record’s many highlights, it opens among a sea of feedback and a colossal rhythm, heavy enough to make the Earth quake… but it’s also hypnotizing. The complex pummeling steadily works in a motorik fashion. Then we get to the vocals, and the opening line “I am a national treasure” and if you’re not sold yet, you’re not paying attention. As the song becomes increasingly unhinged, the riff circles around like a swarm of rattled hornets, that cynical humor roars into a simple enough hook, “it’s all mine, the pleasure, the pleasure, it’s all mine.” It’s an easy turn of phrase that takes on a whole different tonality with it comes shouted and mangled in a whirlwind of wall of sound guitars and ever increasing intensity. The lyric video is seemingly made entirely of emojis and well… I’ll say it again, for every bit as heavy and unrelenting as Blacklisters may be, they are equal parts hilarious and clever.
Do yourself a favor and pre-order a copy of this one, an “album of the year” contender if there ever was one.