Past Lives
“Tapestry of Webs”
Suicide Squeeze

So if you were into good music at any extended period between 2000 and 2006, you might have heard of a band called the Blood Brothers. If not, think of William S. Burroughs collaborating on a doomed cabaret suite with Drive Like Jehu and your getting close. Or failing that, just set some Chihuahuas loose on a bunch of meat stained, heavily distorted guitars. Now you’re getting it…

Well, forget those fuckers. That band dead and buried, they’re history, man! Thing is that good bands, even shitty bands, kinda resemble the ancient Hydra from Herculean mythology: for every one you kill, at least two more slightly shittier ones will pop up. That pretty much the case here; while the guitarist and blonde singer (whose vocal stylings make up the Chihuahua component of the latter analogy) decided to prance off together and form Jaguar Love – just don’t, we won’t go there –  while the rhythm section and remaining singer formed Past Lives, who have released two EPs and now a debut, which your reading the critique of now. Everyone up to speed? Good.

Ok, so the Blood Brothers this ain’t . They’re sophisticated post-punks now, and you know what that means: no crazy time thingys, no kitschy Wurlitzer breakdowns and absolutely no girlie screaming like some kind of punk drag queen. Of course, these elements were the most fun bits about the ’Brothers so how does this all bode for Past Lives?

Well, different, that’s how. To be honest, Jordan Blilie (the brunette singer from the aforementioned band that doesn’t sound like a little boy with his testicles removed [also the brother of the drummer from the Gossip. Huh, small world...]) was always my favourite of the two, and not in a lesser-of-two-really-crappy-evils way. Theoretically the man has a voice that ranks along with some of the not-quite callbacks in the Idol waiting room. But rock n’ roll is nothing if not the playground for the physically and emotionally damaged, and my money is on a bit of both here.  In between the skittish tonality of the guitar and the hyperactive rhythm section, his voice finds a nice groove to warble in comfortably.

Singers aside, the whole thing feels pretty spare, like they’re not worried about cramming the frequency space with squishy organs and mariachi horns. Hey, the Mars Volta could learn a thing or two from these guys! There’s a bit of clarinet and some soft keys in there but it all serves to simplify somehow rather than complicated. Fuck those afro beat poly-rhythms right off!
Another thing you might pick up on here is its’ not nearly as angry as the ’Brothers. This is a double edged sword. The distinct lack of vitriol strips the faster tracks of some belief. It’s literally like comparing PIL to the Sex Pistols: the precision of the former in itself negates the raw fury of the latter. The upshot to this is that the quieter, moodier tracks, are free to wallow in their own psychedelic tranquillity, which is a good thing. ‘Deep In the Valley’ and the closer ‘There Is a Lights So Bright It Blinds’ are as pretty as they come.

Yeah, they’re still edgy, they’re just not on the edge anymore. Look, for all intents and purposes this is still far better than a good 90% of the indie rock that’s coming out today. But just being put in that category, and I’m talking about indie rock the genre (don’t act like you don’t know what I mean, the Joy Division/Sonic Youth knock off thing) is a slippery, slippery slope. Most of the songs are good. Some are better than good. It’s just a pity it came at the cost of the music’s balls.

Popularity: 1%