Humongous but due to the sheer velocity of what shreds from the centre of Most Normal. LTW: Humorous but about to be stoned to death. Some insane vocals pierce the ears, screaming from the cold vacuum about how benign and polite and polarised the times currently area upon walking through one door that fronts a room of problems into another fucking room entirely stuffed with its own unique set of ravaged plans and problems. A worming hypnotic piece of hydraulic noise power punching into the crippled earth. Gilla band’s opener for the new album continues to hiss and hum like the baby alien breaking free from John Hurt’s ribcage. What’s cast back at the beholder, looking at life, microscopic, holographic, narcotic, through their own personal lens, is all but a body – just The Gum. But digging deeper the whole concept of Most Normal represents the linkages and leakages between songs (‘Everyone’s a weirdo…’) but also reflects the kinds of conditions the band were in at the time leading to their definition of Most Normal, of ‘normality is unique to the lens of the beholder’. A society fat with sadness asking questions but blinded by the deafening, deadening silence that decorates the answer, that distances us from its important core: just what is Normal? Just who can tell? Why bother?Ī recent interview with their frontman Dara Kiely confirms it to be lifted from a song on the album called I Was Away. A culture of channeling our innate hatred charging the hearts and minds of each other into cancellations, into calculated questions. The culture obsessed with possession yet actually what is reflected back when such a culture is combing its hair and brushing its teeth in the morning before boarding the ache of another delayed train is a feeling of the hollow man, the freezing sensation of emptiness, the sonic violence of a floating rose in the form of Francis’ Bacon’s Man and Beast. Cancellation as one of the last surviving choices people think they have to block someone on your social media feed as though they have been ceremonially burned at the stake for something someone said 50 years ago. This would be the culture of the condemned. It’s one kind of venom against one kind of vinegar. Vital in how it uses lyrical vitriol to unveil the strangest of details about the strangest of people in the strangest of spaces. They proceed to punch an astoundingly intense, feral raucous, and rampaging experimental rave every time with Most Normal, their most importantly Most Now album, standing as a continuation of how a band can curate such mighty work whilst exceeding expectations, excelling acclaim, trumping anticipation upon each whole release. This is a retort, a response, a rollicking tossing of industrial noise punk that distorts the walls of the shadows that this year, and the year before that, and the year before that, somehow stinks the entire globe out the more it is copied and stretched over. This is their new album, their new name, their new statement – an abrasive diatribe against the Machiavellian, masochistic apparatuses of 2022 that Gilla Band, musically scathing and lyrically speaking cannot help but be troubled by what keeps ticking and chewing on, is forever, unsurprisingly found rolling around in its own digital filth. One weened and seized with a carnivorous circus of consumer goods complimented by cinnamon sprinkled television repeats and completed by repeat prescriptions to ease the bite of the next big governmental lie pulsating at the postmodern nexus and the queer media Jesus with their pronouns neatly displayed on a button badge on their Burton blazer is nailed to the cross above it all. Simply put, and all the more compelling because of how such a buzz about such a band, with such a capital artistic punch, can emanate from an independent record label is doubly a damn fine demonstration about how to captivate the anarchic imagination rolling around a society anaemic with informational fever. As put into practice on their monstrous new album on Rough Trade: Most Normal. Yet Gilla band brands us, break us, rebuilds us, by branching out into something else, something higher, something heavier. Never exactly no wave or precisely post-punk or finitely indie because there is no longer enough safety (has there ever been without the baggage of boredom that comes nestled in such defiant taglines and terms?) in things that are precise, or finite. Entirely their own to build, entirely their own to break. Gilla Band remain one of the finest groups to emerge out of a generation obsessed with, blessed, and possessed by, a certain raging noise.
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