The guitar growls with a prowling ferocity that is as sure footed as it is deadly precise. From the first strum you can tell this is an ancient and practised predator.
It’s not often you get a track that does exactly what it say’s on the tin, but this is it. We have all been going a little cuckoo trapped in lockdown and clearly Filip Dahl has spent that time just wailing seven shades of sunshine out of his guitar strings.
The track begins in the sci-fi noir synth sound of a bar in the Blade Runner universe. It isn’t long before the hardcore cyber punk element comes crashing through the door of the club and making a ruckus with aggressive riffs and serious prog power. This is a band that make cosmic horror seem like a daydream, it’s beautiful, it’s out of this world, and you can’t help but nod your head in trancelike obedience.
The song begins with a ghostly choir before it’s joined by the fae jingling bell of guitar and the sharp crisp clip of the drums. Throughout the song there is the continuation of this siren-like pitched wailing vocal chorus. The track has an ethereal and dreamlike quality that resonates at a primordial level that gets the listeners hair to stand on edge. It’s exciting, atmospheric, and a little bit magical.
Who is the Cosmic Crooner? An international spy and man of mystery? An intergalactic alien trying to ingratiate himself to the human race through beautiful homage to the music of the 60s and 70s? A pin up model hired to play face to an aged Bond movie music composer looking to revive his career? Whatever or whoever he is we’re very happy to sip slurp a sluice of his retro pop juice.
The track starts already strutting through the forests of fairytales. That delicious little guitar riff has a swagger to it that reflects the bravado of the song’s subject. It is all shoulders and high knees as it marches to the page turning excitement of the drum shocks.
Gravity Circus is a black hole, the density of this huge sound implodes on itself and sucks anything that passes by its orbit to get sucked right into the supernova sound.
They claim that they’re the spearhead of a Nu-Madchester revival, sharp and pointed, it’s well aimed, powerfully thrown, and sure to pierce the armour of the unsure.
The Pleasure Dome is the kind of punk that could easily become an art exhibit. It has this effortless cool and self awareness that helps it pop vividly out of the static on your new music stream.
Ida Maria sounds like the past tipsy beauty in the street, mascara smudged, cat calling fellas as they exit the bar. Bouncing from a drunken slur to surprisingly poetic moments of perfect clarity. Flipping the finger at those that wander over and those that walkaway alike.