Angular post-punk band imbibe psychedelic and prog-rock influences on varied and absorbing sixth album
Twenty years on from the heyday of mainly male-led guitar bands spearheading the indie movement, the deep well of record deals handed out to good and not-so-good bands has given rise to the concept of ‘indie landfill’. Emerging at the same time as this phenomenon was Young Knives (or The Young Knives back then) - an indie trio made up of brothers Henry Dartnall and ‘The House of Lords’ (Thomas Bonsu-Dartnall) and Oliver Askew.
Two decades later, the band’s place as part of this ‘landfill’ landscape provides the inspiration for the title of their sixth album - now as a duo without Askew. Very much part of the indie set back then, the band however offered something more cerebral and enduring than the majority of their peers.
Their debut album Voices of Animals and Men featured some of the more catchy indie bangers from that era but also deeper musings on life in amongst the eccentric lyrics, which saw it earn a Mercury Prize nomination. Follow-up Superabundance took on a brasher, rockier skin while maintaining the elements of their debut which endeared them to many.
From there on, they experienced a commercial malaise, resulting in a crowdfunded fourth album in 2013. A hiatus followed before a psychedelic fifth offering in 2020 - one such a departure from their former sound that this reviewer was caught off guard when catching them performing at a multi-venue festival in Oxford in promotion of that album. Expecting a nostalgia-drenched set, I was instead left baffled and somewhat alienated by the off-kilter world music-mining performance.
So, five years on from then, what does Young Knives ‘6’ conjure? With a lead-up including the re-release of their most well-known first two albums, a lead single full of guitar and trademark lyrics and ‘that’ album title, a hark back to the ‘glory days’ seems to be the direction. And across the 10 tracks lasting a little over 45 minutes, there is enough edgy guitar and quirky lyrics to make the band familiar to anyone favourable towards their first incarnation.
Happily though, this isn’t simply a case of returning to former glories in such a cloned way in which some returns can be, and the experimentation of the band’s second iteration adds to a wide tapestry of sound on Landfill, belying its title.
New horizons: The House of Lords and Henry Dartnall, AKA Young Knives (photo credit: Hannah Carter)
Lead single ‘Dissolution’ is a fast-paced post-punk inspired call to arms for all things ego-destroying, with a rousing refrain to leave a strong impression on the listener. ‘Your car has arrived’ touches upon the death of Henry Dartnall’s son’s best friend, with understandably pained vocals and lyrics about things outside of our control set to an epic brass-enhanced arrangement. ‘Gone, Gone, Completely Gone’ is a feast for the ears with its dramatic, urgent guitar, jazz drumming and uncomfortable psych moments.
Starting with pensive piano joined by strings and Aphex Twin-style electro-percussion on ‘A Memory of Venom’, Landfill takes you on a tour of genres and varied earworms from the prog-rock of ‘Ugly House’ to the Yard Act-esque rap take on latest single ‘Cause and Effect’, and inviting bass rhythm on ‘The People From the Second Way’ to the spacey keyboard soundscape on nihilistic ‘No Sound’.
Penultimate track ‘Love the Knives’ perhaps is the most telling example of their penchant for weirder music in their second era, with guitar like bell chimes, demonic spoken pieces layered over one another and an industrial electro outro - though even here there is room for a more conventional tune in the middle of its seven minutes.
Finally, ‘Fresh Meat’ harks back to the lead piano of opening track ‘A Memory of Venom’ adding a pleasing musical arc to the album as the band muse on the ever-present need for ‘newness’ in the music industry and perhaps, life in general. It serves as a matter-of-fact comment on human evolution without the temptation to become too morose as to their own diminishing of returns that the industry’s obsession more often than not signals.
While each song is worthy of interrogation as a standalone composition, Landfill is best experienced as a whole with the 10 tracks seamlessly falling into one another, despite such deviation in musical direction from track to track, and tellingly, it being an album which keeps you coming back for more.
Older, more weather-beaten and no doubt more cynical, Young Knives here prove that the magic of their early years is still easily called back and, even better than that, the exploration keeps it fresh, broadening their musical dexterity. Early days in 2025, but Landfill will no doubt be towards the higher-ranked albums of our year-end list and go against the grain of its title.
Rating: 8.9/10
Landfill is out on Friday (24 January) via Gadzook
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