Monotonix – Body Language

In this Tower of Babel age, people are forgetting this wonder: for centuries we’ve learnt from each other. Passing on stories, ruminating on useless knowledge, summoning lost names from the past’s abyss. Getting our kicks from the web has silenced us. Any conversation is now punctuated by Google searches and photos. The threat of truth has made us anxious; finer details are to be navigated through to deeper waters, studiously bent over rock pools feels like poverty next to the ocean. The ancient story teller Snorri Sturluson theorised that the old Scandinavian gods, like Odin, or Thor, were older kings whose stories were passed orally down into mystification, then deified, creating a rich cultural identity. For thousands of years we’ve embellished, passionately; resolute are some people in their beliefs of myths and religions.  The impulsive lie that heightens an argument into the greater echelons of admiration has been scared away. In this way, Science, indeed, accessible Technology, has undermined our nature. Wrongness has been wrongly euthanized.

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A friend from Bristol told me about the boys in Monotonix, how they met during one of their live concerts. The drummer was crowdsurfing with his kit and the guitarist was just making his way to the back when he sweatily twisted around, stuck his tongue out and licked all of her front teeth. Apparently, from then on, a fantastical crush blossomed. Cute. I miss her, and I miss Monotonix, as they disbanded shortly after an infamous 1000 shows in five years and the release of their 2011 record Not Yet. But I fell in love with the first EP from 2008, Body Language, thus I present the title track and my best wishes to the most outrageous Tel Aviv garage rock maestros.

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Plaid – Plaid

Plaid

 

I’ve learnt something recently. Caring is sexy. Like, real sexy. This, to some of you, must be obvious. Talk long enough with someone you could find physically attractive and the moment they start talking passionately about something is the moment you want to fuck them. And it draws you in, when a person, wielding an informed opinion, begins pontificating, begins complaining, begins begging the virtues of a facet of an unknown far away field. They lure you into their field and manifest as your lusty guide. Telling you what they want you to know, you hearing what you want to hear, and mainly it’s down to their tone of voice. The seriousness. The raising in volume when they reach their declarative crescendo. And it’s the faces they pull too. A supercilious brow is the sexiest! Like a hook, I am lined and sunk… or whatever that metaphor is meant to be.

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Plaid are woefully unrepresented on this here internet. After plenty of keywords searched I figured I’m just going to have to do it myself. I hope the introduction was ravishing enough. As I go up in belt holes and gain a few more listening years under said belt, I’ve become more attuned to a band’s ability at songwriting, and Plaid happily prevails. I’d liken them to a cross between Frightened Rabbit and Masters of Reality, a propensity for acoustics and verve, able to write a decent vocal line. Their 2011 debut Plaid appears to have gotten lost in the wash of releases. I will hold up their label Gravel Road, and say, get this record out there! Them indie/folk dudes need to hear this!

Have click on the image above to open Spotify.