Reviews
Promo`d
The Asphodells
Ruled By Passion, Destroyed By Lust
Rotters Golf Club

A name inspired by the mythologies of Rock and Roll and Elysian Fields. Gay gladiators, Lord Byron and switchblades. Duane Eddy guitars take their place among Arabic zithers and figures. New Order blow Pablo`s melodica. Tim and Andrew recreate “Power, Corruption and Lies”. Chris and Cosey`s Acid romance. Funky alternatives. Angular riffs. Hypnotic beatboxes rattle and perculate. Percussion like distant stars. Music shy one monitor, but any eastern mystery dominated by the kick drum`s Teutonic march. An Electro formed by a wheezing revolution of Victorian cogs and gears, with zig-zagging Arps as relentless as the army of water-carrying broomsticks in The Sorcerer`s Apprentice. Blasts of Jericho`s horns. Cold Wave snares. Weatherall makes like Mick Jones and a poet laureate makes like The Meteors. All light and air squeezed out on a claustrophobic trip.
If A.R. Kane`s “A Love From Outer Space” is an ecstatic rush of Indie Dream Pop converting to the church of Italian Scream-Up Piano House, “a ticket to ride on the space express”, all wrong but all the more wonderful for that, then The Asphodells` cover is a kinda sad reprise. A now characteristic 105 BPM chug around “The Orange Place”, the “Smokeblech” re-recorded for Ali Cooke, Electronic`s “Freewill”. Somewhere within is a bleached and worn memory of Hannett and The Basement 5. Cathartic in an “It`s you against the world, kid” way, it`s a cold dawn over Blackfriars with all the end of the night potential of an On-U esque remix of Primal Scream, but I am wondering if it only works in context. Do you need to know the original to appreciate the cover? Or am I just doing Lester Bangs with Lou Reed, looking for feet of clay? New ears need to listen.
