Stealing the Show?
From the outset of choral feedback and lo-fi kit sounds that burst into a big and jittery pop anthem, it is clearer than a Spring-time dawn that this album will kick in hard but is so gorgeously pretty that you will be stunned and led into a state of bliss that is almost post-coital. Think of it as if Maralyn Monroe kisses you with tongues and everything, gropes you firmly, then changes her mind and boots you in the balls. With a smile still emblazoned across your face, tears of pain will trickle down and into your inflamed groin-region. Part of you will feel the hurt and sadness of it all, but a great deal of you will feel desperate for more. You'll feel love.
This is Chris Davis' brainchild (a key member of alternative hots, Six by Seven). Coupled with Katty Heath from Bent and additional appearances from other members of Six by Seven, it is clear where each element of 'Departure' comes from. Each song is very good at projecting an image, a portrait of a day or place or glittering piece of emotion. We could examine this and get lost, so before we get tongue-tied by staring into its deep and ethereal eyes, let's just say that it's a wonderful thing.
For example, 'Hungover' is certainly not a song you would want to put on if in that familiar state, but is a great musical representation of a cotton wool head, sticky toes, throbbing brain, desert tongue and shaking skull. Lie down, shut your eyes and be glad you're not talking to God on the Big White Telephone, but you can equally be taken on a night on the town and then the subsequent day in bed via this song. And with metaphors aside, there is something messy and basic in the use of singing, but it manages to hold a modestly great quality. There is something beyond words, and that makes tough work for the journo, but brilliant rewards for the listener.
Though the true killer execution and final blow lies within 'Seefeel', a disco indie throbber that grinds, licks and pumps away on you, scratching at your eardrums and covering you in sordid thoughts. In fact, it is pretty much nigh on impossible to not envision the dirtiest, smuttiest and most amazing and lucid night of your life without this being somewhere in amongst the soundtrack and just audible above the heavy breathing. If you want to treat your partner to something they'll never forget, you wouldn't do wrong to study this track and ask yourself how on earth a piece of music can project such strong feelings and whether you should just let your partner run away with it for a dirty weekend.
Further into the album, we can see trends, but all of which are forgivable. Take 'Electric Forecast' – another repetition trip of lyrics and compositional structure ('taking drugs under your bed') sung with such an innocent nursery rhyme of a melody that makes it almost unnerving.
The album will leave you as it started, in a wash of hypnotic substances, slightly tripped out playing and with no real vocal hold as such, but with enough honesty and conviction that it would seem a shame to for it to be burdened with any more.
Of course it should be seen that this material isn't a total, erm, departure from the vibes that Six by Seven were so bloody great at, but with a sharper pop tinge and an additional few layers of sound and production lumped on top of already heaving songs, all 11 tracks soar up into the heights so effortlessly that there is enough leeway for the once-thought essentials to take the backseat, doze off and enjoy the ride ('Never's Too Soon' and 'Machines' are both songs that have a very simplistic vocal use but are no less intriguing for it, and with 'Liquid Coloured' also holding the torch, this is the dominant feel of the album).
It almost sounds like a culmination of feelings and pent up frustration that have been brooding since Six by Seven died away. There are so many colours emanating from its frame, but if you didn't like the member's previous acts, you aren't necessarily going to be converted.
You should give it a go, though. The light and all these feelings that cause splutterings of wordwank are, well, beautiful. Hold this one tight and look after it, for it is brilliantly fragile and pure.