“I didn’t want to seize the day; it’s not why I came”

Everything of beauty must be treasured; nothing of such elegant, insistent, forceful yet effortless beauty can ever be worthless. The Isle of Mans indie godfathers have, here, crafted a six track E.P. of subtly direct intensity that flies in the face of what is popular, then turns and wheels and soars in a full on two fingers to what musicians “should” be doing. The E.P, these days so unpopular with the record industry (E.M.I. would surely have split this over one single in three different formats, just to screw a few more dollars out of thirteen year old kids from Slough) should be a vital tool in promoting new talent. It was good enough for The Beatles, it’s good enough for Weirdo.

This six track affair is an all together more cohesive collection than what has gone before, it reads well from start to finish, like a best selling paperback, or a fine four course dinner. That is not to say it’s all comfortable, in the same way that a great film maker will have you reeling in laughter just moments before dragging you down to the tumult of despair and desperation, Weirdo have, with this record created a film score without a film. It’s that emotive, it is that evocative, it’s a heart on a sleeve record that innately captures the aroma of island life, the stench off small town existence, that feeling of distance from everything or everyone that you love.

The quasi-euphoric opening of ‘Theme From Weirdo (opening credits)’ is as close to an instrumental as you’ll get from a band with so much to say. It has echoes of James’ ‘Laid’ and R.E.M’s ‘Endgame’, layers of acoustic melody overlying a structured strum, laced with a hint of chorus and a gentle vocal line that shimmers and glides just enough to ease you in. And you’ll need to be eased in, because what follows really is something special. ‘Slow Coma’ takes hold with a pounding drum and a coating of repressed electronica, it’s the sound of a distant foundry, until the delicate guitar lines and sublime vocals ease into the frame. The stereo effect leaves sonic effect lines buzzing around and around your head, never from the same point, always moving around, it’s almost unsettling, as though the music is taking hold of you and commanding you to listen. You have no choice; you cannot listen to this whilst doing the ironing. ‘Slow Coma’ grips you by the scruff of the neck and dictates immediately. There is no escape, and to be honest you wouldn’t want to. As the song builds to a climax, the guitars form a sonic chaotic cavalcade with the vocals buried deep beneath, just loud enough for you to hear their composed pleas of desperation.

Just when you think things couldn’t get any better, out of the cacophonic demise of ‘Slow Coma’ grows ‘Lime Street’. The soothing guitar lines over the verse scatter around a simple drum pattern, before crashing and blooming into a tantalising anthem during the break, soaring and searing before settling back to a string-esque laden melody. The song itself is heart wrenching and gut twisting, it’s a tale of personal desperation which is, in the great tradition of the best story tellers, left open ended. We know it ends happily, but there is that nagging unease that burns in the pit of your stomach. Again, I am left wondering how something that sounds so beautiful can at the same time leave me feeling so ill at ease? I know exactly why, it’s because Weirdo are combing a composite mix of opposite emotions. Desperate tales of desolation and isolation lovingly told over a soundtrack of absolute, definitive, and stunningly graceful melodies.

‘All For You’ (available for free download from the Weirdo website) is again a typically sublime pop song, the industrious rhythm patterns echo distant, discordant machinations, whilst the harmonious and melodious layers of vocal and guitar bathe the listener in glorious, luxurious waves of sonorous tenderness. Followed closely by ‘A Minute Too Long’ we again find Weirdo in come down wonderland. A song that sounds like your bus conductor moaning that your ticket is out of date whilst The Supremes sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ on the back seat of the double decker; it has that element of loss, whist retaining an overwhelming edge of ecstatic euphoria. I cannot recommend Weirdo highly enough; skilled in the arts of song writing, presentation and psychological destruction in equal measure, they impose themselves forcefully and beautifully, and deservedly so.

‘Rothko’ closes the record, and it’s a harsher, much more brutal affair than what has preceded, finally the underlying lyrical content has been absorbed by the music and all hell breaks loose. Suddenly the band are being dragged to hell in a handcart, kicking and screaming, fighting tooth and nail. This is where Weirdo can bear things no more, the heart that they wear on their sleeve has taken over, the head no longer rules and it’s farewell to nice acoustic guitar lines, this is much more menacing. It pulls you back, holds you down, covers your mouth and stares into your eyes...and says...Fuck knows what it says, but it scares me shitless. This is the future and you can’t fight it, there is no going back and you have to deal with it. This is music. This is Weirdo.

’26 Minutes’ is a six track E.P. available for the pittance of £2.50 (and that even includes postage and packing) from I Wish I Was Unpopular Records, click here now.

If you think you appreciate music, if you have the slightest inclination to check out new bands then you simply have to buy this record. It’ll make what you saw on the Brits last week seem like a completely anachronistic waste of time,  that is of course if you didn't think that already.

Johnny Mac

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