An extremely bleak album - Grass House will remind you how the world will dick you over in the end
The world according to Grass House is an extremely bleak one indeed. Not for them fun and frolics; instead an autumnal fog cloaks their debut album and its tales of nature, art and how the world will dick you over in the end. The hotly tipped Yorkshire foursome draw on Nick Cave, Johnny Cash, Tom Waits and other grizzled men with a penchant for thorny blues and all-black clothing, but in spite of that it’s not all grim: the band imbue these transparent influences with chiming indie guitars and the hazy vibrato of a ‘60s-era organ. It’s grand, too – the backing vocals recall monks chanting and the odd choir slips in and out of proceedings. But any attempt at bombast is pinned down by singer Liam Palmer’s weary baritone and wry poetry. Intriguingly glum.