Violet is a solo project masquerading as a band, understandably so considering the cynicism that
would meet the suggestion of going to see Pixie Geldof sing in a Dalston basement. For anyone in it for
the car crash, though (and considering the audience seems to be made up largely of Geldof’s friends, there
really aren’t many), are sorely disappointed. Geldof can certainly sing – better, even, than you’d expect the
young a-criticism-magnet to. She begins with new single ‘Y.O.U.’, a sweetly lolloping love song that
sounds like a Lily Allen desert session track. Then, another one. And another. And, yeah… The rest of
Violet – all boys – sit on their amps and try and succeed to not pull focus from their singer in her
Shirley Manson leopard print. They’re sitting ultimately because of the lack of space down here, but
it suits this kind of building road music, made for upturned barrels and out houses. Like their singer, they
sound faultless. The songs, however, don’t. Far from bad, they just all sound remarkably similar – like
Howling Bells slow tracks. It all sounds a bit ‘bought
in’. It all sounds a bit masquerading
Amongst a landslide of sludge riffs and Napalm Death references, you can just about make out Daniel
Devine’s cries of “fuckin” throughout Flat’s debut album.
There seem to be other lyrics too, sneered with very English (and very Crass) contempt, but God knows what they are.
Flats began as a mod-bashing British hardcore band – now they’re an everythingbashing, doomy metal group.
The reason it doesn’tn work quite as well as their earliest EP is because for all the rage and paddy-throwing,
Devine is surprisingly forgettable, then annoying, then forgettable again.
‘Better Living’ thrashes on, proudly touting its underground hard rock
influences, quickly mushing into one long slew of indecipherable bar chords
rampages, all the while Devine making little sense. Most of the tracks are named after ballroom dances
(‘Foxtrot, ‘Tango’, ‘Shuffle’), which is pretty funny, but you have to ask, if Flats really are this angry, why aren’t we allowed to hear the lyrics?
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