As a little kid we recall being intensely disappointed that the foil-wrapped Santa mannequins hanging from the Christmas tree were hollow, and not forged from solid chocolate; a year later we recall being astounded by a similar treat that such a detailed festive homunculus could be sculpted from a millimetre thin cocoa shell. We’re reminded of this whilst listening to two new records, which are thoughtfully put together, but which are insubstantial and light: sweet and intriguing, but empty inside.
Banbury’s A Broken Frame (AKA quirk popper Zube Sultana, who has had some good recent press in Nightshift), has turned in a five-track demo that is neatly constructed, but sounds like a collection of generic backing tracks that have been gathering digital dust on a studio hard drive since the mid 90s. In balancing moody bass, exploratory, Mogwai guitar and programmed beats, A Broken Frame probably intends to come off like Leeds’ Worried About Satan, but in actual fact it sounds a little like the discarded doodles of some post-goth lite indie band: Curve or, Gods help us, Garbage. There are plus points: the opener “Torque” flexes some muscle and briefly reminded us of laddish industrial jokers Nitzer Ebb, whereas “Dialectic” (Jesus, did this guy name his tracks by cutting up a 1994 copy of The Wire?) is the standout, placing heat-haze guitars in the middle distance and foregrounding a percussive wobble like the sound made by twanging a ruler off the edge of a desk.
In fact, “Dialectic” is something like a post-rock version of Photek, which is certainly a tempting concept, but, like the rest of the EP, it sounds like half a composition; in actuality, the record sounds like what it explicitly is, a side project, created in “frustration and annoyance” to “exorcise some pent-up energy and aggression”. And if it spurred Zube onto greater things, or got the creative juices flowing, then all well and good, but as a listening experience, it’s more like a few rough ideas crystallised at drawing board stage.
Stefan Archer‘s CD is similar, although the production is far more lush and enveloping. “A Clockwork Mind” boasts a wonderful attention to detail, and brings to mind William Orbit’s sassy productions for All Saints. Archer also manages to instil some feeling of progression into the piece, slowly building the tune with the aid of some excellent snare presses and a lead guitar line that flirts with dissonance. Sadly the companion track, “Fuzzy Logic” (OK, can people stop naming their records that, please? It makes “Dialectic” seem like a good idea) has a gloriously recorded loping bass, but not a whole bunch else. Archer may be more of a craftsman than Sultana, but he’s still essentially creating middle-ground tracks that are neither finished songs, nor moody soundscapes.
Don’t get us wrong, we don’t think these tunes need wailing house divas or creaming guitar solos to be called finished; in fact, we reckon both artists could win by coming over all Spartan, and excising any extraneous musical flab. We prescribe a crash course of Kode 9, Plastikman and the fantastic record Talk Talk’s Paul Webb made with Portishead’s Beth Gibbons. Both these artists are clearly talented, but this pair of records sound like negligible stepping stones on the way to real achievement.