Hopefully the last of a dying breed
Enough ear-stinging, lo-fi blare. Enough, too, of this post-future dubstep conjured by anonymous ghouls with planets for eyes and jet engines where their hearts should be. What we need is a man who not only has a heart, but wears it strapped, like a leaky bomb, to his shirt sleeve – a man like Martin Newnham. Martin moved to London from the Isle Of Wight a decade ago and he’s rare, in that he still believes lyric booklets can overpower noise pedals. His songs have simple titles that sound funny when
you bark them at people – ‘Done’, ‘Close’, ‘No’ – and they recall “one-man Coldplay” Gary Go, Del Amitri and regatta funk respectively. Sound good? What?! Wait – lovely horn flourishes! Sincerity! No, no jet engines… OK, fine. Carry on.