Review Summary: History has been written.
Let me tell you about disappointment. The worst disappointment you could ever possibly experience is one of yourself. It is incorrect to say that I made Post-Punk the essence of my life, but it is only and only true to say that Post-Punk has chosen me. From my early age (the teen one), through my confused-about-my-place-in-this-world fresh-adult phase, all the way to my current very settled self, this genre has been the main soundtrack to most of my life. And yet I keep discovering new releases in it, in spite of having heard pretty much what would a regular human consider “like totally everything, y’all”. The disappointment I feel in myself, in the widespread acclaim of the genre that led to the exponential amount of music released, and the ever so shortening amount of time life has to offer, all of it perforates me with its claws upon discovering something truly outstanding in this genre. The questions that arise. How have I not heard it before? How did I spend my life without having heard it? How will I lead my life now with having this now forever stuck in my mind?
The Blackouts aren’t novices, aren’t amateurs, aren’t a bunch of delinquents with no particular musical goal. In spite of having only a handful of Eps released back in the day and this uniting compilation, they are an enigma. Or so I choose to believe. This album blasted into my life a year ago and slapped my metaphorical face with its upfront and nonchalant music. And I refuse to find out that in reality they were a clump of meaninglessly living nobodies with no purpose in life and no goal behind this piece, other than to have a band they can show off to their friends. I wish to believe that the personas behind this music are as eclectic and purposefully mysterious as I find their music to be.
How can someone put together an album of 15 songs and have it be as consistent as this? One after the other you get to hear the most beating, brooding, banging, sagging, snapping, slapping, strapping, flogging ***ing thing there is, and as a bonus you’ll get a fair portion of ridiculously charismatic cocky vocal delivery. The dodgy basslines and the systematic drumlines with atmospheric song-writing all goddamn stab your brain (but not lethally) and get inside there to nest for all eternity. It is an underground Post-Punk beauty like it should be. And now that I made you aware of it I shall go contemplate about what paths I took in life wrong that kept me from knowing of this band.
