In Memoriam A.J.W.

Amy Winehouse - 1983-2011

So, farewell then Amy Winehouse,
You sung the blues with soul,
Now you are blue,
And your soul has gone awry;
They tried to make you go to rehab,
And now it seems only too obvious why.

Hail to the Eskimo - 'Anything can Happen' EP Review

Hail to the Eskimo

        Hail to the Eskimo's debut EP 'Anything can Happen' is burgeoning with snappy beats, crackling with energy, and flourishing with heavy pop; it is, in other words, the Rice Krispies of the music scene. Low in cholesterol, high in protein and glazed with sugar it is filling without being surfeiting, sweet but not sickly, it is full of energy with little excess fat. Don't let me be misunderstood, this is not a thinly veiled advert for the nutritious benefits of eating Rice Krispies - other brands are available - this is a poorly contrived analogy for the nourishing experience of listening to Hail to the Eskimo's krisp sound, delayed guitars, biting bass, and powerful, female-fueled, vocals. 

        Emerging out of the furnaces of Sheffield and the coal mines of Doncaster, Hail to the Eskimo are still in their molten state, slightly unrefined and unsettled, which lends a feeling of unpredictability and vigour to a sound reflective of the high pitched guitar of The Killer's first album, the readying for the jump to light speed feel of The Stroke's third, and the restless sophistication of Bloc Party's first.

        Eponymous track 'Anything Can Happen' kicks off drums flanging, guitar snarling, and bass bracing itself for the fight. It is unrelenting in its danceability, yet the arrangements are varied enough for this to not become jaded, though perhaps the songs would benefit from having more confidence to really accentuate the contrast between the passion and the breaks; not that confidence is anything the band lacks. There's space enough in amongst the tightly interwoven parts for you to get a good grip on the music, and it grips you back with matched enthusiasm. 

        The lyrics have an anthemic hold and vocalist, Sally, sounds like Beth Ditto on a Slim-Fast diet, which is why, microcosmically, the band work. There is no perceptible over-riding ego, pushing and shoving for breathing space, suffocating the others, and whilst this can be a curse in getting media coverage in an age where music is judged - and I use the word scathingly - on personality and wardrobe, not content, here it allows all members to play an intrinsic part in a wider order. The guitar breaks are like Nick Valensi's early ones, competent but unassuming, the drums are highly rhythmic without swallowing up the restless bass, and throughout all of this the rhythm guitar brings the substance whilst the vocals strike out from within, piercing through the layers like a lighthouse tearing through the night.  There are no egos in this band, because the band is the ego, a collective body functioning as a whole.

        I give Hail to the Eskimo an animal rating of: Cerberus, the multi-headed hound, guardian of The Underworld's eternal gates; a collaborative of heads working as one to produce something that resembles the familiar form of the loveable dog, but with much more bite.