The Spook Of The Thirteenth Lock
Album: The Brutal Here And Now
Label: Transduction
Tracks: 12
Website: http://thirteenthlock.net/

This turns out to be the second release from the Irish psych-rock-folk outfit (now newly expanded to a five-piece with the addition of bassist Ronan Hayes). Named after a poem about a haunted canal lock (tho' how relevant actually is that, I wonder?), TSOTTL burst onto the scene with their acclaimed debut album back in 2008 following close on three years of building up a potent, and individual, musical presence. This could be said to trace a line from the Irish 1960s folk revival through psych, kraut and post-rock, a description which at least gives some idea of roughly what to expect from the band.

But onto this basic template they overlay wider (Italian and Indian) folk influences, ending up singing in English, Irish and Italian during the course of the album. And as a result, the disc's dozen tracks cover a lot of interesting musical ground in attempting to convey their songs' often quite complex messages (usually revolving around themes of personal and national identity, alienation and revolution, particularly with a historical or mythological slant). This can backfire, in that there are instances where too many ideas within the span of a single track can lead to a slight lack of focus rather than the hoped-for welcome diversity, and so the result is a bit of a curate's egg - although a brilliantly power-charged one, of that there is never any doubt - where the band's penchant for experimental diversity either gets the better of them or else proves a touch disconcerting for the listener.

Taking the words of the album title quite literally, the band sound can be quite brutal and, with its emphasis on feedback-drenched electric guitars and amplified banjo, is definitively of the here-and-now rather than looking at the past through tainted rose-coloured nostalgia or pure-tradition glasses. And there's nothing wrong with that, since this kind of visceral excitement is something the band does especially well.

Trademark features of the band's approach include their super-charged energy and a creative use of irregular metres and time-signatures amidst more standard rock gestures, but perhaps most persuasive of all is the intrinsically "Irish" brogue that permeates much of the vocal work, as on The Rattling Hell and Suffer The Wait. Sweeney's Frenzy is more like a contemporary take on the Horslips model, with a catchy fuzz-guitar riff driving along an electrified banjo-propelled jig. Black Diaries appears to meld traditional song-form with sinister doom-metal, while Mearchuimhneas inhabits an eerie drone-laden soundscape. It's a shame that lyrics aren't provided with the package, for the pair of songs sung in Irish, linked by a brief but shattering instrumental melisma, are among the most musically interesting of the tracks (Bóthar Crua Iarthar might even be considered a standout).

Elsewhere it's a case of swings and roundabouts; the spare, atmospheric drones of opening track The Tarantella promise much, which the ensuing stridently sung Italian text and frenetic build to a dance-mode finish can't quite deliver, while the next track Suffer The Wait does indeed suffer a little - from its restlessness, its constant shift in musical focus. But at the same time, the sheer tough edginess and daring of this band are an integral part of what sets its music apart from bog-standard Celtic-folk-rock, and thus are to be celebrated and encouraged.

David Kidman