Indie-poppers are equal parts blissed out and moody
Nine Black Alps : Cosmopolitan
Riotous Manc pretty boys go nutsoid
Here’s what we know about Nine Black Alps. They come from Manchester. There’s four of them. All of them, even the drummer, are young and cute enough to deserve evisceration, pickling and being kept in a jar on your dashboard or bedside table. They’re signed to Melodic, which is – alongside Names – probably the coolest label in the country. Back in April, as part of a live review, we called them “nothing short of incredible”, which was, if anything, playing the whole thing down a little for my taste.
And, most importantly, ‘Cosmopolitan’ is a monstrously, um, melodic wall of noise that comes on with creeping stealth, picking its way towards you like the Pixies, before erupting into a brutal roar that sticks eight defiant fingers up to all the known and respected laws of science by staying totally focused and all fucked up, shagged-out and ragged at the same time. How do they do that? I don’t fucking know, but when singer Sam growls, “You spend the night/I’ll take my life/We’ll kill our time/We’ll be dead by sunrise” you can’t help but realise that NBA have made you shiver with joy. Then, when they wheel out the even more tune-heavy ‘Over The Ocean’, two minutes and 22 seconds of blood-warm fury that seems to rattle by in about four seconds, it occurs to you that what you’re listening to will prove to be only the beginning of a very beautiful relationship. Woof, and most definitely, woof.
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