Too much. Much too much.
Crystal Antlers: Tentacles
Touch and Go
This lot are all about extremes.
Here’s a few:
i) Jonny Bell‘s razor-ripped yelp elicits either hammer-fist ‘yeahs’ or eye-screwing ‘ewws’.
ii) Question: Did-they-or-didn’t-they-produce-this album-properly? – it’s either incredibly half-arsed or intentionally half-arsed which in turn attempts to be out-there and quite frankly isn’t – it’s simply half-arsed.
iii) Organist Victor Rodriguez is a dude. Problem is he’s buried under the soggy sock constituting ‘production.’ When he emerges from this steaming turd of hiss, Tentacles can become an incredible listen, best exemplified in the rad noise-moog helter-skelter that is Andrew, which is the sound of Comets on Fire given a kick up the pants by Black Lips in the Louisiana swamps.
iv) Frenetic is their only mode of choice. Like watching a toddler career round a restaurant after a while it becomes more than annoying and you want to kick it.
v) Ambience is one thing, but such is the interference of tinny drone after a while it washes over you into a state of nothingness. I fell asleep on the train.
Ultimately, there’s strong potential, but for now too much of everything leaves you feeling like there’s something missing.
For fans of: Robert Rodriguez, nine bob notes, amateur dramatics.
Crystal Antlers: Andrew