Review Summary: You know your moves babe, and I know my chords.
Although they are always very kind and supportive, Greek fans don’t really pay attention to the opening acts, in rock/metal concerts. Moreover, if a gig starts at 20:30 hours and the supporting outfit(s) is/are set to play for a nominally predefined amount of time, a good lot of fans will land at the venue, just in time to see the major (and favourite) band on the bill. This behaviour is partially justified by the promoters’ reluctance in bringing along the up-and-coming, foreign new outfits with which headliners have toured Europe in previous dates. In effect, the vacant support slots are filled by (financially cheaper) local acts, which tend to be a hit or miss, in terms of artistic merit. Well, fans deliberately absent on an April 12, 2014 night, when Thessalonikans This Is Nowhere opened for Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, refrained from letting themselves in the know about one of the most interesting outfits of the Hellenic heavy rock scene.
The band had its debut album released in January 2014, so consequently, the live set mainly resonated with the lysergic, bluesy, yet noisy bouquet of songs included therein. Fast forward two years, and This Is Nowhere are back with a follow-up LP that sounds fairly differentiated. The tempo in places has been elevated, on par with the corresponding tendency in late ‘60s rock n’ roll and outfits such as Led Zeppelin and/or The Doors. Song writing is still based on spontaneous, possibly undeveloped, yet inspired whims (the riffs are almost seamless), with “Burn the Line” standing out of the lot, as the Thessalonikans approach progressive rock on their own, minimal terms. Speaking of which; the compositions are lengthy, yet their simplistic structure is purely seductive and/or agitating at times, the lyrics and vocals make perfect sense in the aforementioned scenario, whereas the monolithic rhythm section is one of the firmest this side of heavy rock has to offer.
The album’s fundamental flaw is that music such as this, almost always feels “trapped” within the format (vinyl, CD, digital) that hosts it. This Is Nowhere sound infinitely more massive live, because, like other relevant outfits, their noisy sonic mindset draws strength from the amplifiers’ feedback. Some day in months to come,
Music To Relapse will make some heads to roll at a venue within the Thessaloniki Western sector, and if all go well, the author of this review will be among the attendants. Listen to this album, and chances are you will want to be on that show as well.
