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Released 26th Feb on 7" and download, with two new songs as b-sides: We Saw Jerry's Daughter (a Camper Van Beethoven tune) and Huevos Rancheros. Play them at Myspace Inspired by Phillip Pullman's His Dark Material, by the Romeo Dellaire documentary Shake Hands With The Devil, by the old testament story The Book of Job and by the music of Johnny Cash. Each 7" contains cards, the ace of spades is the golden ticket, allowing free entry to any show in 2007. An intro reminiscent of 'Last Train to Clarkesville' is blown aside within seconds by an insistent two chord riff and a rhythmic urgency that lies somewhere between the UK power pop of the late seventies and US punk of the eighties. Over this, vocalist Eamon Hamilton provides a venomous commentary of a double or quits card game between God and the Devil. It would seem that under the Brakes moniker, three quarters of the band have found a means to purge themselves of the poppier leanings of other projects past and present, namely Electric Soft Parade and British Sea Power, and to channel their frustrations into producing straight-to-the-point no-frills rock 'n' roll. This they have already proved on two acclaimed albums and, clocking in at little over two minutes, 'Cease And Desist' continues the trend impressively. N: Lulling us into the false sense we are visiting another Monkees from their brief introduction, then thrusting this down our throats as the band proceed to hammer out this noise filled number with gusto and mustard. Refreshingly unashamed, especially from the uncensored version. T: Well, I'm glad you liked it too. I'm also going to let you mark it, because like I said, I'm biased and would give it full marks. N: Nine. 9/10 "Now can't you hear the angels crying, their songs of love are now songs of dying" continues Eamon with pain, confusion and anger in his voice, backed by urgent, ferocious guitars as God loses a fictional game of cards to Satan. We're pleased to say that this is yet another slice of stabbing brilliance from our Rough Trade favourites. Their noise is one of genius I tell you, all down to some of the most ridiculous yet fantastic lyrics - "God came down and said I'm fucking bored/So he took a shot of whiskey and shuffled his cards" - you can't expect a song with such opening lines to be anything but slick. Brakes make the kind of music so many bands try and fail dismally to. The sharp and edgy guitar riffs in Cease and Desist grumble and squeal with savage rhythm that has a quality that I for one cannot help but fall in love with every time. It don't want to bore you with ridiculous and self indulgent metaphors; it's simple that Brakes have grown into something quite special from their debut album Give Blood, spitting out music which shows intelligence and a certain superiority. But Brakes were not content simply with being God's own hard-rocking house band, for they were intelligent theologians themselves, having been spawned from the loins of smart-arsed parents British Sea Power and The Electric Soft Parade. 'We'd like to release 30-second singles and make an electronica-influenced record called 'All Night Disco Party' they cried. 'Woe is us!' And lo, the Lord God was angry, and he cast them out of his pearly indie club, to an unkempt and windswept paradise known as Brighton. And there, they did reform, and create an angry record about their former manager being beaten in a game of chance by the devil. And everyone around them did say 'Crikey, that sounds just like the Pixies!' and God forgave them, for he realised that Brakes were still bloody awesome". 4 stars. Last year's The Beatific Visions was undoubtedly one of the most instantaneous, skull-pulverising albums of 2006, and with more potentially storming singles to choose from than the counters at HMV, one wouldn't be too surprised if the members of Brakes put all ten songs from said album in a hat and drew them out one-by-one. Obviously Cease And Desist won this month's draw. The fact that it's almost over before you get to the second chorus means you don't have time to eat, sleep or even blink, so enjoy it while it lasts. You know you want to. 4 stars. So, alongside petitions against badger culling and ones calling for Ruth Kelly's head on a plate, I'm going to suggest starting one calling for a national day of celebration every time Brighton-based supergroup Brakes release a record. Why? Because they're fucking great. It's not just because the group are made up of a veritable smorgasbord of indie cool (Half of Electric Soft Parade! One-fifth of British Sea Power!), or because they once released a dance single entitled All Night Disco Party, or even because they like to write 30 second pop songs, but because they rock like a bastard. Admittedly, there's nothing new about this thrashy, Frank Black-worshipping racket, but as apocalyptic visions go (apparently the song is a reversal of the Book of Job, with Satan beating God's wager) this is probably as near as you're ever going to get to a new Pixies record. Punky, shouty and with a hook to die for, this is good enough to sway any naysayers in the campaign for Brakes Day. Come on Tony, you know it makes sense. The Cash influence can certainly be felt at the start of the song, where a 'Ring Of Fire' upwards scale is zoomed over by one of the guitars, but it's hard to see quite where the other influences fit in and how they work together without clashing, but trust is laid on lead singer Hamilton's decision making regarding this. The forthright scaling of Tom White's guitar and frequent lapses into almost shrieking heights of note play off against Hamilton's bitter, almost vicious vocal that concludes the song by telling the listener "it wasn't built to last." The Brakes seem to be, though. |
