FATED APE – PROMO CD
It’s
a rare thing when the (though largely excellent) Gloucestershire
music scene throws up such a curio as this duo, but for that we
should be entirely grateful, if a little unsure as to how seriously
their art should be ingested.
While my comments on this – but a
taster for “a forthcoming (independent) release”, as a rather
charming handwritten letter from frontman ‘Mambo’, who with producer
‘Baz’ form Fated Ape, informs me – cannot assess more than a mere
tang of the spacious musical palate the Cheltenham two-piece may
well possess, it is enough to lubricate the appetite. In a little
over nine minutes they unveil a sound that will not suit everyone,
is out of step with pretty much everything else around at the
moment, and is sadly unlikely to ever reward them with international
fame and fortune.
Yet, after a few listens, it is
undeniably enjoyable. Reverberating white noise introduces the
sleek, loungey Sexual Footsteps, and presents an immediate
problem. Mambo’s creepy baritone is the perfect instrument to
illustrate a tale of ambiguous late night activity, but, coupled
with the wry, subtle humour of the wording, suggestively
intoned…it’s more amusing than emotional. The same can mainly be
said for each of the three songs, and hopefully that’s intentional.
Morning After
is stylistically similar, with slow, ominous, predatory hi hat,
thick bass grooves as sweet and dirty as treacle, and scaly blues
guitar lulling the victim into a secure, contemplative haze. But
while the opening track deigns not to untangle itself from this
unsettling ambience, its predecessor floods the smoky jazz club
atmosphere with wistful electric guitar histrionics. In league with
the deep, druggy, Syd Barrett-esque vocals, it’s the most obvious of
several references to early Pink Floyd. The plaintive chorus of “I
just wanna go home now” brings to mind The Hitch Hikers Guide To The
Galaxy – Arthur Dent, sat, alone, on an alien world, gazing into the
vast infinity of the skies and lowing softly to himself. Well,
that’s what it did for me, anyway. And there’s certainly emotion in
that.
But closer Her Black Dog is
more U2 than UFO, specifically the wailing harmonica Americana
resident on certain sections of The Joshua Tree, while the
murky guitar whorl of the bridge sounds more like R.E.M. circa
New Adventures In Hi-Fi. Essentially, then, it’s not very
British. Cracking one liner similes such as “Stings like a cat o’
nine tails” make up for a general lack of ambition, but the piece is
nice, rather than great.
Fated
Ape, though, are not a band for grand gestures. The casual defiance
of their gently carved works is quietly pleasing. A real find.
Review by:
Rich Partington
