His new single experiments gloriously with a new sound transmitting pertinent angst.
Photo: Louise Mason | Words: Lloyd Bolton
On 'Canyon,' Lou Terry builds something abstractly emotional, hinging on claustrophobic imagery and a unique evolution of his angst-ridden rock signature. The new single announces itself with a propulsive guitar riff, textured with flange and softly spiky. Accompanied by cool synth pads, it establishes an earthy quality to the song reminiscent perhaps of Tunng.
The lyrics are chanted in a manner that further dissembles each line's cryptic meaning. There is a suggestion of disappearance and some remote form of distress, captured in the loosely surreal title image of "throwing feathers into a canyon." The delivery is somewhat evocative of Damon Albarn on early Gorillaz albums, and the music has that similar darkness undercutting it, suggestive of some vague manmade apocalypse but also of a personal angst, anchored in this case by the repeated line, "I'm building a case for myself and I'm never coming out." The song remains stripped down and bare, each element acutely felt, until at last it erupts into a cavernous denouement worthy of the title.
The single builds adventurously on Terry's previous releases, on which experimental moments have always shone through cracks. Here, they come to the fore magnificently, creating something epic and defiantly unique.
No comments:
Post a Comment