Released less than two years ago, The Blinders’ debut album Columbia was a rip-roaring glimpse into a quasi-parallel world, a dystopia which nonetheless appeared eerily familiar.
Subtle references to the twin disasters of Trump and Brexit abounded, it both a timeless piece of work and a capturing of the zeitgeist.
Now we find ourselves further ensconced into this dystopia than even Messrs Trump and Johnson could surely have envisaged; once regarded as part of delusional fiction, facemasks are (due to be) a common sight in day-to-day life, while the powers that governments across the world have granted themselves leave progressives despairing still more, to say nothing of the non-political issues facing the world.
And so, whilst it’s unlikely to be a moniker they truly enjoy, the trio from Doncaster-via-Manchester continue to release prescient music.
On first listen, Fantasies Of A Stay At Home Psychopath doesn’t sound like a huge evolution in sound – all the hallmarks that made Columbia such a compelling listen are present; brutal, relentless percussion (on Mule Track the tom-toms are given a bruising workout), menacingly heavy guitars and rage disguised beneath singing.
Yet there’s more intricacy and subtlety in the music than before: Lunatic (With A Loaded Gun) is broadly familiar and would slot well into Columbia’s tracklist, but with an organ that adds dread to an already desperate song. Fellow single Forty Days And Forty Nights channels Humbug-era Arctic Monkeys, but with some speed metal thrown in.
Elsewhere, Circle Song and I Want Gold both have spaghetti western vibes, while Interlude is very much that; a spoken-word monologue set against echoed piano. Best of all is closer In This Decade, where Thomas Heywood goes full-on Dylan: ‘See the cigarettes on the floor like pennies cast to a wishing well’, he ponders alongside a dusty acoustic guitar.
Yet while the subtle musical evolutions are welcome (and required, in truth), The Blinders also know how to play to their strengths. One can broadly surmise the tone of the songs by their titles: Something Wicked This Way Comes contains a sky-opening riff with distorted chords and vocals as Heywood spits out menacing poetry, while Rage At The Dying Of The Light is a stonking monster, little more than rage itself set to music. Only on the unnecessarily long Black Glass do the trio overplay their hand, a variety of different tempos merely serving to disguise a wafer-thin song.
The lyrical content continues to successfully cradle metaphor and reality: Lunatic (With A Loaded Gun) can only be about the President of the United States and his policies (‘he says what he must to gain their trust’), albeit only by virtue of a reference to ‘children in cages’ as the rest could apply to many populist leaders.
From Nothing To Abundance features the band railing against capitalism and the shrinking opportunities for the youth (‘From nothing to the lie, and the poor child’s cry, and the chance that flutters by’), with stinging guitars to match. And on the aforementioned In This Decade, Heywood is most on point: ‘In this decade there’s no knowing if there’s gonna be a tomorrow’. Biblical allusions, existential despair and personal observations all vie for the listener’s attention, often at the same time.
As all good sophomore albums should when a debut was so strong, Fantasies… builds on solid foundations. Alas, the mysterious Johnny Dream (who adorned the cover of Columbia) has had to make way for the titular psychopath, but other than that the album is another visceral assault on the senses, and therefore a worthy follow-up.
We may be going to hell in a handcart, but the soundtrack to get there might almost make it worth it.
