Browsing round an HMV in Canterbury yesterday with The Cure's 17 Seconds wafting over the shop system it occurred to me how ubiquitous this particular sound of my youth is now. Young friends talk about Robert Smith in venerated tones as if he were Charlton Heston descending from Mount Sinai with The Ten Commandments.
This brittle gloominess is all over Wiltshire Archie Shepp's debut Happy New Year. Of course there are other modern precedents for this sound. Beach Fossils, DIIV, Wild Nothing. Anyhow the record is utterly mired in this sound. A decorative but inessential listen.
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