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The Zero Hour: Three tracks at random

We take a whistlestop look at new releases from Fightmilk, Déjà Vega and Salt Water Criminals

Montage of the three featured acts

Three records. Three unfamiliar artists. One algorithm. What could possibly go wrong?

It’s been a little quiet in the Zero wing of Tunefountain Towers this week when it comes to interesting new releases, so I thought I’d try a spot of blind reviewing.

The rules are simple. Pick three tracks at random from my Spotify Release Radar, all by artists I’ve never knowingly listened to before, and give them a proper hearing.

Presumably, the algorithm has decided these are things I ought to like. But then again, algorithms have been responsible for some of the more questionable decisions of the twenty-first century.

If they’re brilliant, I’ll say so. If they’re shit, you’ll hear about that too.

Let’s see what happens.

Techno Tom (Déjà Vega)

Deja Vega
Déjà Vega

First out of the algorithmic hat are Déjà Vega with Techno Tom, taken from their recently released album Another Version of Ourselves.

And we’re off to a flying start.

A swirling electronic beat kicks things into motion before fuzzed-out guitars come crashing through and the vocals arrive with all the swagger of a particularly confident indie-rock frontman.

This is Low-Life-era New Order territory. Or, if we’re going to get properly obscure, the marvellous dancefloor reconstruction of Section 25 back in the day.

The insistent electronic pulse holds everything together while the guitars gradually build towards a magnificent, relentless wall of noise.

Avant-garde art-house dance music for student discos.

What’s not to like?

Supermodel (Salt Water Criminals)

Saltwater Criminals
Salt Water Criminals

Next up are New Zealand’s Salt Water Criminals, offering Supermodel in all its gloriously twee C86 splendour.

This lo-fi quartet conjure images of long summer evenings and distant surfboards, with winsome harmonies floating above gloriously discordant guitars.

Everything swirls and spins as sixties psychedelia washes around your ankles, the melodies somehow remaining perfectly intact amid the chaos.

For a more contemporary reference point, they’d sound entirely at home alongside Ferguson Hi-Fi and The Paris Match at Glasgow’s Cabbage.

They take all those influences, wrap them in sunshine and deliver a delightful three-and-a-half-minute slice of guitar pop.

The algorithm scores again.

Escape! From Camp Run For Your Life

Fightmilk
Fightmilk

Finally, we arrive at the magnificently titled Escape! From Camp Run For Your Life by Fightmilk.

With a name like that, I was expecting something suitably sinister to accompany a low-budget slasher film.

But apparently not.

Instead, we’re treated to a pounding slab of alternative rock that mixes equal parts L7 and Pixies, with a little freakbeat psychedelia thrown in for good measure.

Crunching guitars collide with a swaggering rhythm before the whole thing threatens to collapse into a gloriously discordant climax.

I’m not going to pretend I have the faintest idea what’s going on here.

Because I really don’t.

But there’s a confidence and a slightly unhinged exuberance about the whole enterprise that makes me want to hear considerably more.

And somebody really ought to play this at an indie disco.

The verdict

Well, I appear to have emerged relatively unscathed.

Three unfamiliar artists, three rather enjoyable records and not a single occasion when I felt compelled to throw the laptop through the window.

Spotify hasn’t lied to me. Yet.

There’s certainly enough here to warrant investigating all three artists further, which rather defeats my usual suspicion that the algorithm exists primarily to funnel us towards the same dozen records.

Perhaps the machines know something after all.

We’ll repeat the experiment.

Next time, I might not be so lucky.

You can hear the tracks here:

Bobby Zero

Bobby Zero writes about alternative music, bad ideas, beautiful noise and the increasingly suspicious business of selling rebellion back to the people who invented it. You don’t need permission. Artists should still prepared to make a mess, take a risk and mean something. No genre policing, no industry cheerleading and very little interest in whatever the algorithm has decided we should all like this week. Music criticism should occasionally start an argument, that independence is an action rather than a marketing category, and that the most interesting records usually arrive from somewhere nobody was looking. Destroy the consensus. Play it louder.