They're always a little more baroque than you'd expect, Elbow; a little less 'Manchester', and a whole lot creepier than modern manners require. Their suspenseful landscapes are
as blasted heaths to Alfie's sunny riversides. It's safe to
say, no-one will ever wave a football scarf at an Elbow gig, and if they do, it will be caked in dried blood.
'Red' isn't likely to win you over immediately, like Elbow's 'Newborn' debut did. But it'll gradually insinuate its way under your skin, a mass of percussive twitches and lush orchestral flows, electronic unease and a mournful testimony to the unravelling of a life. Fine, serious damage.
Kitty Empire
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