Neuroplasticity, by Cold Specks
IT IS a week for acts tackling that “difficult” second album, difficult especially when your debut was as uniquely defining as Cold Specks’s.
Twenty-odd years to write your debut makes writing a follow-up somewhat a challenge.
The temptation is to do more of the same and although the tones of the Deep South and the blues lilt of Billie Holiday remain, on Neuroplasticity Al Spx seems to have been possessed by an inner demon.
Old Knives combines off-kilter guitar pickings with a slowly creeping unease before building to its chilling conclusion of deep swirling bass synth chords and seemingly random trumpet honking.
The result? One of those rarities, a second album that eclipses its acclaimed predecessor but this is darker, much darker.
One of the most astounding records of the year and an essential late night listen.
The gothic jazz-blues musical incarnation of a Stephen King novel. Out Monday.
See Cold Specks live at The Portsmouth Wedgewood rooms on September 25.
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