General genre-knowledge often dictates how we appreciate music. With jazz, for example, a lot of our appreciation comes from an underlying realisation that a human is making those unearthly sounds. The fact that it’s physically difficult flavours the experience. On the other hand, with electronica, whether we’re aware of it or not, we tend to sit back and appreciate arrangements, but rarely find ourselves, consciously or not, saying: “Sterling work, drum-pattern number 4!”
This, I reckon, is part of the reason why listening to a hybrid breed like The Redneck Manifesto can be such a thrilling experience: There’s a tension between their electronic influences (clearer than ever on this record) and the hardcore/funk physicality of their performances. So one minute you’re appreciating some intricate drum lines from an arranger’s point of view. “Well programmed!” you think, and then you realise: “A human is doing that.” (This, if you’re of a philosophical bent leads you to the question: “Who programmed that human and why?”). With The Redneck Manifesto, five humans are doing that; five humans who have spent over a decade becoming a tightly wound guitar, bass, drum and synth machine that is far more than the sum of its parts.
What’s changed in the four years since their last record? Well, the Rednecks aren’t just about the interlocking guitar lines anymore. This time they’re also all about the texture, and seem to have taken a slightly more relaxed, less urgent attitude which allows them more time to wallow in sound. As a result the guitar tones are more rounded (as though the strings have done a course on ‘living in the now’) and the bass seems to have more overtones (like it’s taken up smoking). Occasionally the bass even seems to croon (thanks to heretical use of a chorus pedal). Most significantly, however, on this record the synth lines have begun to assert themselves, indicating a whole universe of hitherto unexplored sonic possibilities.
For me, the typical Redneck track (like the opener ‘Black Apple’) starts with a questioning guitar line sending out a plea to the universe, (I’m just guessing here, but probably something like: “What’s it all about?” “Why are we here?” “What does this button do?” “Who’s in charge?”). This is then answered by counter-melodies on the second guitar and bass, which seem to encourage the questioner (“Good question! What does this button do?! Ah fuck it, enough with the questions, just kick him in the face!”). The synth’s role as outlined in this conversation is to ominously suggest that, “You don’t want to know what the answers are because they’re too scary.”
On the other hand, sometimes the Redneck’s music seems to joyously suggest, “Being in this band is awesome!” (‘Hex’) and on other occasions they make what I can only describe as day-time television music for a more meaningful universe (‘Cloud Beard’).
Which is all just another way of saying that writing about music is like dancing about architecture, and that The Redneck Manifesto rock. However, if I was to simply cut and paste that statement until I reached my word count I’d undermine the business model of this magazine.

Key Track: ‘Hex’