‘Stills’ cuts out the needless meandering and instead digs up prime nuggets of psych-garage and short, sharp shocks of shoegaze after a poke from a cattle prod.
An initial passing might imply Stills is merely a darker version of its predecessor, but further listens expose a deeper attention to dynamic changes, to tonal shifts, and to momentum in general.
This is ultimately a transitory record, its gate-crashing momentum tempered by songs that feel like holdovers from Gauntlet Hair’s more whimsical debut.
‘Stills’ is the musical equivalent of the sun disappearing behind a cloud for a brief moment; it gives you a chance to look up at the sky, but you’re still glad to get the sun back.
It’s an exhausting listen in general, with the singles standing head and shoulders above the rest and it is head-scratchingly confusing how a band can be intriguing and beguiling one minute and then downright irritating the next.
An effort of fits and starts that has no trouble getting going, but also reflect a band that’s not quite sure where it wants to get to.
Craig and Andy have managed to create an album that almost captures the mood and atmosphere of the records that inspired their youth, but the drum machines break the illusion and make you realise that what you're listening to is just an imitation.
It sounds great, but it’s more the trappings of greatness being imitated and reproduced here than the substance and truth of real brilliance.
Somewhere under all this reverb and murk, Gauntlet Hair may yet have the makings of a fine band, but the album burns out long before they have an opportunity to reveal wether this is true.
#98 | / | Crack Magazine |