by Dan Goldin (@post_trash_)
If there’s an art form to deconstructing punk (or post-hardcore) syllable by syllable, Leeds trio Beige Palace stand at the vanguard. Their music seems to look toward the bigger picture in scope, just before it’s shattered into drawn out shards, fractions dangerously crafted with sharp edges. It’s a special brand of racket, one that feels akin to a puzzle where the pieces have been crammed in as opposed to being put in their intended places. Leg, their debut album, introduced a sound that was built on a deranged sense of melody. It was undeniably catchy with a mounting sense of dread that seemed to grow within their minimalist tension. Four years later and Beige Palace would appear to be writing with more immediacy but that seasick sensibility still hits like a tidal wave. Hooks abound on their second album Making Sounds For Andy, but they’re designed for instability, the ground beneath the songs a looming concern of erosion. Released via Human Worth (Modern Technology, Thee Alcoholics, Grub Nap) with cassettes out on Flooding Fortress Records (Atol Atol Atol), the band appear to find joy in the unpleasant, offering a disarming quality to their needling focus, but they remain locked in and engaged.
Comprised of Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe, Kelly Bishop, and Ant Bedford, it’s within their skeletal arrangements that they really emphasize the importance of every choice throughout the album. When a rhythm seems to drop from a detached groove into the abyss or the vocals spike a line of woozy melody into the mix, the impact is felt with alarming resolve. Bedford’s collapsing drums really set the tone, not so much as a framework but a rough guide. The rhythms color the picture with broad strokes outside the lines, rolling in patchwork beats that only seem to hit out of necessity. It’s never a stampede but more a nimble rush, jarring but deep in its own self-made pocket. From there they make use of patience, their atonal slides often moving in slow motion, grinding in singularities provided from bleeding bass, synths, and guitars forged from rust. Every moment that swells with cloying melody is balanced with a gnawing repetition, ideas beaten into existence with a hypnotic aura akin to Lungfish’s catalog, seemingly replacing that band’s mysticism with cynicism and agitation.
Beige Palace are expanding their textures with Making Sounds For Andy. They let tension build like tornado sirens on “Not Waiving,” they stumble into a rare moment of warbling twang on “Local Sandwich,” and they’re scraping away at conventions with the fidgety strings and stone skipping plod of “Bon Voyage”. There’s a sense that they’re pulling at rubbery frameworks in order to drive home structure, but they could also just be blowing off steam, embracing melody in ways less explored, brutal yet brilliant, sparse but devastating. “One Man Haunted-House” comes unglued with mountainous drums and a vocal performance that feels picked and plucked, one syllable at a time. The album’s finale, “The Depraved Beast,” opens with detuned strings and gothic folk leaning vocals that somewhat recall Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra, at least until the rhythm comes slinking in. The song is nearly swallowed in dense bass notes and drums that could practically be described as melodic. It’s a beautifully deranged way to end the album, seesawing back and forth with a feeling of disgust lifted by cavernous dynamics.