Vast waves of eerie sound. It was minor, moody, and slow, rather sensual. I began to daydream vividly, picturing a forest, two lovers, a cold spring morning.
The set improved drastically midway through when Mick Brown (vocals) wailed out “Disgusted,” which exemplifies his repulsion with his life, music, and mind.
The singer’s got kinda a Marilyn Monroe thing going on, but it doesn’t take long for the bratty Drew Barrymore sneer to appear to warm the hearts and cockles.
He wasn’t singing so much as whining in a nasal voice, and having an epileptic fit. “Kind of like Emo Phillips on crack, don’t you think?” the bartender said.
From the first moments, you drown in a wash of rich orchestration and entrancing melody lines that draw you into singer Martin Rossiter’s enchanting world.