Back With A Vengeance

Anyone looking for incontrovertible evidence of climate change need only reference the most recent album charts and gig listings. The glacier into which some of the music world’s most mercurial talents had disappeared seems of late to have melted. The long-lost Kevin Rowland has reformed Dexys, Kevin Shields has done likewise with MBV, Bowie has a new record out, and Reni has taken up his stool behind Squire, Brown and Mani. So plentiful have these re-entries been, rumours now abound that Talk Talk’s Mark Hollis is currently penning the British Eurovision entry.

The Belfast music scene is making its own contribution to this creative defrost. Desert Hearts are arguably our most brilliant but least productive band. In the last 15 years, they have made two records. Two great albums, yes, but even so – it’s a strike rate that would throw Fernando Torres’s Chelsea ratio into some relief.
Lo and behold, though, here comes Enturbulation = No Challenge – their third full-length album, and if it proves anything it’s that Desert Hearts will leave the tap-ins to the goal-hangers: they’d prefer to score the odd screamer from halfway.
We’ll hopefully have a chance to go through it properly at a later date, so I’ll just say that throughout the course of the 12 songs, they’ve never sounded happier (‘Powertrash’), sadder (‘Oak Mot’), saner (‘The Usual’) and more unhinged (‘Barebarbu’). It’s a belter of a reintroduction.
Charley and Roisin from the band turn up too in another brilliant record: the debut album from Phil Kieran’s Le Carousel. Looking through the cast-list – there are contributions by David Holmes, Andrew Weatherall, Robyn G. Shiels, Danny Todd – the level of respect enjoyed by Mr. Kieran amongst his peers is clear to see. This, of course, should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with his accomplishments over the last decade and a half. But what’s striking about this project is that even with a supporting cast packing such a punch, there’s no doubt who is in creative control.
Cheeky mention too for The Deer’s Cry by Malojian. It’s already been talked up mightily on this page, but – while available online since December – it’s only now that physical copies of the album are landing on people’s doormats. So think of this as a final reminder. It’s a top, top record and while some of the ballads seemed brilliantly suited to the mid-winter of its initial introduction, there are tunes aplenty that’ll bloom beautifully in spring. A Malojian of All Seasons, really.
Those who remain unmoved by trashy post-hardcore rock may decide, on first encounter, to give Finding St. Kilda by Axis Of a bit of a swerve. That would do this interesting, inquisitive collection of songs a disservice. Part travelogue, part shaggy-dog tale – trench-level indie life has rarely been captured so truthfully and romantically.
Add in The New Life by Girls Names (a confident ransacking of the 4AD label’s high-points), Drone Pop Two by Documenta (which, brilliantly, sounds exactly like you’re led to believe by the title and nothing like it at all) and Ciaran Lavery’s (Big Pink by way of Lurgan) Not Nearly Dark and you’ll hopefully find enough there to keep you amused as the days lengthen and the ice-caps retreat.