Lazarus Kane

Like biblical forename-sake, six-strong Bristolians Lazarus Kane arise once more from a state of stasis. After releasing a slew of acclaimed singles the group have departed from prolific bedrock label Speedy Wunderground and signed to So Young Records, producing these four songs that comprise the ‘Psychobabble E.P.’

Ear-ily evocative of near-hit 1990s (shoulda-been more than fleeting) glamour-wonders Nancy Boy, it’s a riot-racket of repetitive riffs, lacerating lyricism (a mixture of elliptical expression and crystal-clear cat-calling), pulsating pre-set elect-rock energies and strum-thrummed-drumatics.

‘Milk at my door’ is wiry, fiery, melange of soul-boy punk-funk in the vein of The Blow Monkeys’ Dr. Robert guesting with Gang of Four. Frontman Ben Jakes (stepping from the alter-ego shadows of the eponymous ‘Lazarus’) tantalisingly twisting and turning his talk-text, casually dropping and oozing a procession of ‘Ooh!’ along the way as he takes a trip down the cul-de-sac of conspicuous consumption, the ever-evasive carrot on the stick that once munched forever leaves an empty, flavourless taste. In a world riddled by technoanists hell-bent on tickling their filtered fancies, this lament to days of yore and the daily delivery of the liquid fruits of the bovine a cryptic tale of a half-pint life … less lived.

‘Whole Foods’ cheekily lifts the ‘free-trade cocaine’ quip from arch-satirists Half Man Half Biscuit’s ‘The light at the end of the tunnel (is the light of an oncoming train). That said, it’s an astute observation and one ripe for permanent appropriation. As a strata of society sniffs and snivels its weekly way from Thursday to Sunday, disconnected from the ‘wired’ realities of being plugged in, the urges to consume become even more pressing. The void widens as the options narrow.

‘Williston, ND’ is inspired by the ‘feel-good’ story of an American small town striking black gold transforming the place into a magnetic boomtown, where the ravenous rats run in as opposed to fleeing out. The prairie expanse replaced by the deathless metal silhouettes of corporate capitalism and driller killers. As the Earth dies screaming, pilfered, punctured and pillaged, the Texas Tea and the dollars begin streaming. Who benefits?

The closing ‘mps’ exudes the menacing majesty air of 70s Alice Cooper in all their pomp and circumstance.

An outstanding set of songs that stimulates, invigorates and whets the appetite for further releases.