I’d been consuming this desolate Dadaist ‘tronica since first offered the review. Blancmange’s newest album is a wide room to walk through, you can pick up and put down pieces of each song and move on to examine the next piece you fancy; A crystalline beat, hook or texture, a word. It’s flashy because it’s unflashy. It towers with no overcrowding. It’s open and wide and almost afraid of its own empty space.
It’s 2018 in the Rescue Rooms, Nottingham. It’s ’77/78 in CBGBs for an hour.
Im going to go ahead and namecheck from the off. Ramones, NY Dolls, Patti Smith, HeartBreakers, DMZ, Television… Reads like a grubbed up punk bible in a dirt-black hard-back CBGB sleeve. Snort off the face of it, tear out the pages and roll up a whatever, there’s enough blood and sweat in there to keep it all stuck.