South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
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South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
White coloured vinyl.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
Indies exclusive pink coloured vinyl.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
Indies only limited edition recycled black vinyl.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?
Pink coloured cassette.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
South London band Dry Cleaning's follow-up to their well-received 2021 debut "New Long Leg" is unashamedly British - sardonic, self-deprecating, poetic, earthy, pessimistic - which would be something to cherish if it wasn't so devoid of life. Maybe it's all we deserve.
It doesn't take more than a few seconds to isolate exactly where Dry Cleaning are coming from. Familiar dub-inspired post-punk bass notes introduce us to 'Anna Calls From The Arctic', before Florence Shaw's deadpan narrative anchors the track in a mood of unmistakably British malaise. Their musical influences are a teeth-grindingly tasteful laundry list of British reference points: The Smiths, The Fall, Public Image Limited. There's even a trace of the Factory stable in there somewhere beneath the paid-in-full art school velvet.
None of this would be an issue if it didn't sound like music devised by committee; British civic life is in a state of chaos, which Dry Cleaning freely reference on tracks like 'Conservative Hell', but shouldn't this result in musical violence rather than dejected nonchalance? The spectre of Johnny Marr looms over the jangling guitars on 'Kwenchy Kups', and Shaw comments, "Well things are shit, but they're gonna be okay." Are they? You sure?