PAN get us all guessing who’s behind the ragged-out instrumental styles of Honour, debuting with a patently London-styled sound lodged somewhere between Mica Levi, John T. Gast and Dean Blunt.
Going on like the soundtrack to an anti-hero boss in the metropolis, ‘Beg 4 Mercy’ supplies a constantly surprising 22 minutes of narrative instrumental chicanery where tracks unexpectedly turn left/right midway and ring out with a dead sore sort of late night blooz. The label are playing tight-lipped with the background info on this one, but ears can hear similarities with a number of notables who are maybe too obvious to mention (even thought we had a stab above). It’s a finely finessed type of crud that works damn well, feeling to our ears like the score to a series of Top Boy directed by the Safdie brothers, all gonzo jump cuts and bleached out hyperrealism of a particularly psychological thriller quality.
Whether evoking aerial shots of the city at night and rolling streets lit by 7-11’s in a dealer’s whip on ’Seven Seals’, pushing into spangled illegal club scenes with the screwed soundsystem stabs and road rap nods to ‘2Yung2Die (Moon Mix)’, or even bittersweet romance giving way to chase scenes in the burned-out strum and sirens of ‘M3 (Twenty Gods)’, it’s all flush with a pathos that we can’t avert our ears from. By the point of its bummed out denouement on ‘Wayoe’ and the coruscating string of ’Shina’s Syndrome’ we’re really no wiser as to which minds lurk behind Honour’s curtains, but we’re totally here for it and eagerly awaiting the next episode, which, err, is due p soon. Keep 'em peeled.
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PAN get us all guessing who’s behind the ragged-out instrumental styles of Honour, debuting with a patently London-styled sound lodged somewhere between Mica Levi, John T. Gast and Dean Blunt.
Going on like the soundtrack to an anti-hero boss in the metropolis, ‘Beg 4 Mercy’ supplies a constantly surprising 22 minutes of narrative instrumental chicanery where tracks unexpectedly turn left/right midway and ring out with a dead sore sort of late night blooz. The label are playing tight-lipped with the background info on this one, but ears can hear similarities with a number of notables who are maybe too obvious to mention (even thought we had a stab above). It’s a finely finessed type of crud that works damn well, feeling to our ears like the score to a series of Top Boy directed by the Safdie brothers, all gonzo jump cuts and bleached out hyperrealism of a particularly psychological thriller quality.
Whether evoking aerial shots of the city at night and rolling streets lit by 7-11’s in a dealer’s whip on ’Seven Seals’, pushing into spangled illegal club scenes with the screwed soundsystem stabs and road rap nods to ‘2Yung2Die (Moon Mix)’, or even bittersweet romance giving way to chase scenes in the burned-out strum and sirens of ‘M3 (Twenty Gods)’, it’s all flush with a pathos that we can’t avert our ears from. By the point of its bummed out denouement on ‘Wayoe’ and the coruscating string of ’Shina’s Syndrome’ we’re really no wiser as to which minds lurk behind Honour’s curtains, but we’re totally here for it and eagerly awaiting the next episode, which, err, is due p soon. Keep 'em peeled.
PAN get us all guessing who’s behind the ragged-out instrumental styles of Honour, debuting with a patently London-styled sound lodged somewhere between Mica Levi, John T. Gast and Dean Blunt.
Going on like the soundtrack to an anti-hero boss in the metropolis, ‘Beg 4 Mercy’ supplies a constantly surprising 22 minutes of narrative instrumental chicanery where tracks unexpectedly turn left/right midway and ring out with a dead sore sort of late night blooz. The label are playing tight-lipped with the background info on this one, but ears can hear similarities with a number of notables who are maybe too obvious to mention (even thought we had a stab above). It’s a finely finessed type of crud that works damn well, feeling to our ears like the score to a series of Top Boy directed by the Safdie brothers, all gonzo jump cuts and bleached out hyperrealism of a particularly psychological thriller quality.
Whether evoking aerial shots of the city at night and rolling streets lit by 7-11’s in a dealer’s whip on ’Seven Seals’, pushing into spangled illegal club scenes with the screwed soundsystem stabs and road rap nods to ‘2Yung2Die (Moon Mix)’, or even bittersweet romance giving way to chase scenes in the burned-out strum and sirens of ‘M3 (Twenty Gods)’, it’s all flush with a pathos that we can’t avert our ears from. By the point of its bummed out denouement on ‘Wayoe’ and the coruscating string of ’Shina’s Syndrome’ we’re really no wiser as to which minds lurk behind Honour’s curtains, but we’re totally here for it and eagerly awaiting the next episode, which, err, is due p soon. Keep 'em peeled.
PAN get us all guessing who’s behind the ragged-out instrumental styles of Honour, debuting with a patently London-styled sound lodged somewhere between Mica Levi, John T. Gast and Dean Blunt.
Going on like the soundtrack to an anti-hero boss in the metropolis, ‘Beg 4 Mercy’ supplies a constantly surprising 22 minutes of narrative instrumental chicanery where tracks unexpectedly turn left/right midway and ring out with a dead sore sort of late night blooz. The label are playing tight-lipped with the background info on this one, but ears can hear similarities with a number of notables who are maybe too obvious to mention (even thought we had a stab above). It’s a finely finessed type of crud that works damn well, feeling to our ears like the score to a series of Top Boy directed by the Safdie brothers, all gonzo jump cuts and bleached out hyperrealism of a particularly psychological thriller quality.
Whether evoking aerial shots of the city at night and rolling streets lit by 7-11’s in a dealer’s whip on ’Seven Seals’, pushing into spangled illegal club scenes with the screwed soundsystem stabs and road rap nods to ‘2Yung2Die (Moon Mix)’, or even bittersweet romance giving way to chase scenes in the burned-out strum and sirens of ‘M3 (Twenty Gods)’, it’s all flush with a pathos that we can’t avert our ears from. By the point of its bummed out denouement on ‘Wayoe’ and the coruscating string of ’Shina’s Syndrome’ we’re really no wiser as to which minds lurk behind Honour’s curtains, but we’re totally here for it and eagerly awaiting the next episode, which, err, is due p soon. Keep 'em peeled.