‘One listen to the cigarette saturated drawl of Gem’s heartache is enough to affirm the sincerity woven into her dark materials; the music is covered with a frayed sonic bliss that will have you reaching for your nearest black leather jacket.’ – Clark Kent a.k.a John Clay
I’ve been waiting for this. Gem and The Deadheads had me from the opening dirge of ‘Automatic Response’. Sassy vox from Gem, and the kind of guitars that trigger the collective unconscious thrill of illegal motorcycle races. That one time you were young and thought that the bad guy in Grease was actually threatening. Yeah, I’m gushing over the droning guitars and trashy take on Surf Music. Should he ever make the mistake of directing a single for Pulp Fiction, Tarantino needs to track these guys down.
To think this band nearly folded.
I saw them years ago, in The Purple Turtle – drummer-less, but somehow steely in their resolve. Seriously (like I could ever joke about such matters), Gem and The Deadheads write melodramatic Scuzz Rock; a swirling mesh of cinematic soundscapes and fantastic arrangements. And now I’m listening to the album (released on June 1st).
‘Long Way Down’ has the ominous task of following ‘Automatic Response’. Its lolloping crash/bang chorus crushes all doubt to near death. Still, this is track two. They have nine other tracks on debut album (Rebellion) to fuck it all up.
VIDEO of ‘Long Way Down’:
The staccato desperation that emits from track three’s ‘Bang Bang, There Goes My Pistol’ sets us up for more of the same. No bad thing. And although this belter showcases Tristen Ivemy’s familiar jagged guitar melodies and catchy vocals, this offering is the closest thing to filler so far. No amount of unexpected instrumental breaks can distract from the fact, and man, do they try. ‘Bang Bang, there Goes My Pistol’ is only criminal in placement; the impact a little lacking due to the opening magnificence of previous cuts.
‘Just Like Me’ is all about the drums. The stop start beat of the verse provides a great plateau for the psych rock influenced chorus to hit home. ‘You’re an animal, I’m an animal!’ is a chorus line to make epic bands such as Lara Colt sit up and listen. Gem and the Deadheads seem fixated on blasting through single after single. If I were told that the lush bent notes of ‘Just Like Me’ belonged to a singles collection, I wouldn’t bat an eye-lid. Awesome, but this is an album review, and I demand a switch in mood.
‘Push Through It’ parades a great synergy between the swooning hollering of the singer and the drag of the beats. Again, this is a great future single. Nothing wrong with it out of context – in fact – the space Tristan’s guitar licks afford Gem are very welcome. Still, the running order deserves a true album track. Do the band have the guts to change the tempo completely?
The panoramic sweep of ‘How Much Do You Want It’s’ multi-layered guitars are mesmerising. The vocal lunge’s are fully equipped with emotive lyrics and the song has an if-it’s-not-broken-don’t-fix-it allegiance to the rest of the album. In this age of short attention spans and varying distractions, ‘How Much Do You Want It?’ makes sense. But I want a change now. Badly.
I get one. But, it’s on the bands’ terms. Title track ‘Rebellion’ erases the singing from the equation. So, now I’m left wanton and slightly distanced from the L.P. This is good, as I’m now unable to predict what might happen next. Thank god. They haven’t changed their tempo but man, now I want to know what else they plan to do with me.
The triumphant sixties romper stomp of ‘Transgression’ smashes its’ way to my heart. The guitars are jangling their charm over my ears and the return of the vocals is such a welcome pleasure. One listen to the cigarette saturated drawl of Gem’s heartache is enough to affirm the sincerity woven into her dark materials; the music is covered with a frayed sonic bliss that will have you reaching for your nearest black leather jacket. I’m sorry for the doubt. I will be good – promise!
‘Why Can’t You Feel it?’ goes some way to justifying my use of thinly veiled dark submissive sexual imagery. Here we are at track nine of eleven and the proud bolshiness of the album is something with one eye on the door. What many bands take for granted is the power of the edit. Not one track over five minutes so far; no arrangement overstays it’s visitation; no wastage at all, and before I know it, the shrieking demand of my favourite track so far is shunted away to be replaced by the strident and diva like shimmy of ‘Feels Like Paradise’. Gem sings ‘Sweet like honey, feels like paradise’ and I swear, I can taste it. Till it goes. Only one track left. So soon? Damn.
This is an album you play at a party more than once. This is a band you always find the time to listen to – no matter how much time you don’t have. Granted, the instrumentation being delivered by one man (Triston Ivemy) may have led to some overly samey moments, but the brevity of the compositions is a smart move. Oh, and the last track? It’s an instrumental called ‘Hardwired’. So, I’m gonna have a shower (probably cold) and play the album again when I’m done. This is an album you play at a party more than once. This is a band you always find the time to listen to – no matter how much time you don’t have. Granted, the instrumentation being delivered by one man (Triston Ivemy) may have led to some overly samey moments, but the brevity of the compositions is a smart move. Oh, and the last track? It’s an instrumental called ‘Hardwired’. So, I’m gonna have a shower (probably cold) and play the album again when I’m done.
I’ve been waiting for this, and now that it’s here I can’t quite get enough of pulling it apart and reaching the realisation: no matter how much I pride myself on my knowledge of what works or doesn’t work for a rock album, this madam is always one step ahead and reluctant to heed any whimpering’s of the safe-word. I’ve been waiting for this, and now that it’s here I can’t quite get enough of pulling it apart and reaching the realisation: no matter how much I pride myself on my knowledge of what works or doesn’t work for a rock album, this madam is always one step ahead and reluctant to heed any whimpering’s of the safe-word.
[Rating:4]
https://itun.es/gb/azxH7
