A multi-award-winning experience of what it’s like to live in constant fear, from rookie Hungarian director László Nemes
It's all so terribly British. Mancunian five-piece make debut album featuring strident guitars and lyrical touches ...
A couple of years back, Harvey's Rabbit released a rather wonderful version of a Robert Forster song, 'Is This What You Call Change?'. A hamster's lifetime later, they get around to releasing an album, and it's safe to say that they haven't been too perturbed about missing any funky bandwagons along the way. For theirs is a timeless, zeitgeist-free world of scruffy suits and grey skies; of marginally fierce attitude and chipper, slightly chummy tunes shot through with deadpan grace.
Sniffing around the likes of 'Love Is The Law', 'Whatever Happened To' and 'Happy Town' you get the feeling that Harvey's Rabbit are thoroughly enjoying their role as mature miserable buggers, but would never admit to it in public. Equally, just as Babybird once declared himself to be too handsome to be homeless, you get the not-so-sneaking suspicion that, fundamentally, Harvey's Rabbit are way too amiable to ever be famous.
And then they launch into the nine-and-half-minute distressed melodrama of 'Blue Cat Cafi', the majority of which appears to consist of a decidedly amorous America-mungous axe solo which heaves like so much Carry On cleavage. And you think, 'Oh, so they are big flashypants show-offs after all, then'...
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