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The
songs on either ‘Silent 88’ or its notable predecessor suggest a view of
post-industrial British life as a series of contrasts: melody and noise,
acoustic and electric, pastoral and urban. With titles like ‘The Hay Harvest
Had Special Charms’ and ‘Abstracting Electricity’: you don’t need
post-graduate qualifications in linguistics to see where they are coming
from. For their influences they cite the Bark Psychosis/Disco Inferno school
of UK post-rock, the Bristol scene as represented by the likes of flying
saucer attack, Movietone and Third Eye Foundation, the West Coast-and-beyond
pop of The Beach Boys, Love, High Llamas and Talk Talk, and, very
significantly, the antipodean song and sound craft of The Go-Betweens, The
Chills and This Kind of Punishment. Any criticisms (and they have been made
by the lazy) that Hood are a pale imitation of flying saucer attack are not
supported by the evidence. The fsa vision is something like a kitchen sink
collision between Jesus and Mary Chain and Popol Vuh. Hood are what Bark
Psychosis might have sounded like had they come from Dunedin, and they are
more likely to own Aphex Twin’s ‘Selected Ambient Works II’ and Spring Heel
Jack’s ‘These Are Strings’ than anything by Popol Vuh. Hood are also about
the interior life and introspective desires of that class of well-educated
British youth that does not necessarily want to play the nine-to-five career
game. A song title like ‘An Oblique View of an Irrationally Happy Life’ may
sound more suited to a Museum of Contemporary Art installation, but it fits
in with their sonic cinema verité without incongruity.
Richard
Adams takes up the early history of the band:
Hood were
formed in December 1990 by myself and my brother Christopher, mainly as a
vehicle to make as much noise as possible with a newly acquired guitar and
amplifier. We recorded ‘Songs’ live onto a tape recorder an they mostly
consisted of screeching feedback and howling, distorted vocals. A tape fell
into the hands of neighbourhood acquaintance Stewart Anderson, who offered
his services as drummer and thus Hood as a practicing, recording entity was
formed. Friends filled in on bass and guitar and our first gig was played in
September 1991. Any response we had to tapes sent out was negative or
confused, remembering that this was before Pavement, Guided By Voices,
Sentridoh and the like. Comments like ‘awfully recorded’ and ‘bad
musicianship’ were echoed back to us. Two people who were interested were
Karren Ablaze of Ablaze! magazine, who gave the band an interview, and David
McLaughlin of Fluff Records (Leicester-based noise-pop label) who agreed to
release a single.
In 1992 the
three song ‘Sirens’ single was released, the songs basically being
feedback-drenched fuzz-monsters with barely audible vocals. Drummer Stuart
left shortly after to concentrate on his own buzz-pop outfit Boyracer, and
thus followed a time when the line-up of the band changed almost daily. A
second single on the Fluff label was released ‘Opening Into Enclosure’,
which featured seven different people playing on it. This was not a happy
time for the band, and Richard says of these recordings:
The lead
track ‘I Didn’t Think You Were Going to Hit You in the Face’ is
feedback-free, upbeat and has a tongue-in-cheek feel about it, despite the
fact that the band had effectively split during its recording, leaving me
and Chris to finish it off alone in the studio.
Shortly
after the ‘Opening Into Enclosure’ single was released, Hood had to play
rare scheduled gig and still didn’t have a drummer. Andrew Johnson showed
up at the gig having previously bought the ‘Sirens’ single, and in true rock
mythology fashion ended up drumming that night. Thus the core of the current
line-up was formed. I asked Richard about the importance of live work to the
band:
Gigs have
always been few and far between for us. I feel that it is important to limit
playing live as it is easy for it to turn into a chore. Bands that play all
the time tend to play to an audience and its responses. It is important for
the longevity of a band to stay relatively unpractised and on the edge.
Geography is also a reason for limited live appearances. The band has never
been all together in one city and at present is spread around Leeds,
Sheffield, Accrington, Manchester and Newcastle. There have been some truly
bizarre incidents at our gigs over the years. Breaking up on stage in a
disastrous show in Leeds at which our old bass player Matt walked off half
way through. Mysteriously invited to In a City in Manchester in 1994, we
played the unsigned stage with two of the most desperate bands ever: our 10
minute set was said to be an antidote if nothing else. And a chaotic set in
London where we had to go off after four songs when Chris accidentally hit
me over the head with his guitar...blood everywhere.
Over the
next year or so a batch of songs was recorded at various locations, and when
the band were happy with them a very low-key, limited release was done on
Fluff. Thankfully ‘Cabled Linear Traction’ was rescued from obscurity by
Slumberland in 1995 and given a ‘proper’ release (ie one to more than 50
people).
‘Cabled
Linear Traction’ starts with ‘Norfolk’, a head clearing Branca-esque wall of
guitar noise which resolves into a simply effective semi-acoustic pop song
with clean lead guitar and driving bass reminiscent of the urgency of
Go-Betweens ‘Cattle and Cane’. One is struck by the ease with which Hood mix
together these diverse elements given the limitations of home recording, and
already you sense that they have listened well to home recording pioneers
and though long and hard about the possibilities opened up by the likes of
Sebadoh, Guided By Voices and This Kind of Punishment. ‘Evening Return’
materialises in beautiful fashion with a fine guitar line mirroring the
desolate romanticism of lyrics like “My house on the shore/the trawlers
crash/because of me/because of you”. Vortices of scouring rhythm guitar
noise elevate the chorus, underscoring the roller-coaster ride of
conflicting emotions expressed by the song. At the end, the lines ‘I believe
in you/I believe in this’, are motes dancing in a transitory ray of light.
The atmosphere that infuses both this album and the next is by now clear.
The dark emotional palette and forlorn poetry suggest a very European idea
of the sensitive, intelligent young man as doomed romantic poet. The problem
with committing to this aesthetic is that unless you do it very well, the
results will be crashingly pretentious. Fortunately the brothers Adam walk
this line with wit, restrain and the odd flashes of ironic humour. The
wonderfully restrained and undemonstrative track that follows ‘Evening
Return’ (labelled only by an ideogram in the sleeve notes) is reminiscent of
Peter Jefferies at his most reflective, all neo-classical piano and hushed
vocal ellipses. ‘Fades to End a Day’ is similar, but adds some gloomy cello
to help along the exhausted sentiments of the song. The spirit of the
Go-Betweens returns for ‘Small Town Prejudice’, but with some frenetic
drumming replacing the precision achieved by Lindy Morrison. Chris bemoans
‘I fall by the wayside/by the way/by the way/by the way’ like someone
wondering when the Prozac is going to kick in. Scattered between the songs,
there are some great instrumental and song fragments, giving the record an
appealing scrapbook-of-ideas feel, recalling some of the more fractal
efforts of Robert Pollard or Alastair Galbraith. On side two, ‘Fashion
Mistake of the Decade’ plays with the same sort of sequencer-like guitar
patterns that can be found in the work of the much-missed Disco Inferno, and
with its spoken vocal track points the way to ‘Silent ‘88’. Hood’s most
unsettling material can be found on this side. ‘Summer’s Last Annual’ is
brisk and wistful indie-pop, but has a stalker’s dysfunctional psyche:
“Every day I make the same mistakes/But I wake up thinking the same
thoughts...the same thoughts/Walk past your house/I’m near to your house/I’m
near to you” and “Stop around for a while/Or take a walk/The music just
drifts right out of the window/As I walk past your house/I hear the
sound/The sound of fear”. The desperation and gravitas of Joy Division is
tapped into for the overwhelming ‘Thinly Veiled Excuse for Something More’,
which is wracked with an almost pre-suicidal degree of self-disgust.
Thoughts like “I have tried but I have failed/I have thoughts but I don’t
think/I don’t care any more” are carried with stately and powerful chord
sequences and plenty of dynamics to a apocalyptic conclusion made up of
tapes about the Georgetown massacre and concussive snare shots. None of this
ever becomes an exercise in miserablism though, because the sense of melody
and composition is strong enough to counterbalance the more pessimistic
lyrical concerns.
In the
meantime, multi-instrumentalist John Clyde Evans had joined the band in
further serendipitious circumstances. He met the core Hood members at a
party and asked to join. The second album ‘Silent ‘88’, which was recorded
in a similar fashion to ‘Cabled Linear Traction’, tracks being worked on up
and down the UK as job and college commitments allowed.
Hood’s
increasing confidence is obvious from opening trio of songs on ‘Silent ‘88’.
‘The Field Is Cut’ is bizarrely reminiscent of The Smiths and the early but
ephemeral promise of Thousand Yard Stare’s early ‘Weatherwatching’ and
‘Seasonstream’ EPs (but a lot noisier of course). The cycles of rural life
are viewed in the typically equivocal way that is now a Hood trademark:
“Autumn fields just start to die/In the towns no-one could care less/Autumn
fields are cut and sewn/It’s not my fault but I feel responsible (for
everything)”. And in typical “hanging on in quiet desperation” fashion,
the song concludes with the resolve to “Just stay silent and burn inside”.
‘Hood Northern’ staggers around in a fog of off-kilter MBV-ish guitar
rhythms, before clearing briefly for a sweet chorus over urgently strummed
acoustic guitars and then back into the whirlpool of noise for the next
verse. ‘Hood Northern’ is shambolic in the most drop-dead cool fashion like
it is so easy for them to shoot great noise-pop classics form their
fingertips like sparks of effortless lightning. ‘Delusions of
Worthlessness’ is a return to the desperation of the first album, but its
many layers of metallic minor key guitar textures are remarkably
transporting. This track also marks the tentative introduction of Jungle
break-beats into the Hood frame-of-reference, and towards the end the track
these burst through the mix like panic attacks. Next, a couple of fragments,
including the brief acoustic re-assurance of ‘At last! Riots on Spofforth
Hill’ (which ends with mantra repetition of the unconvincing line “I’m not
that desperate”) lead into the magnificent ‘Rural Colours’. which evokes a
surprising degree of melancholy and regret at the passage of time for those
of such presumably tender years. Gentle acoustic guitar and cello drips
sadness onto words like: “One hour at a time/I never realised why/I sat down
for a while/I never even felt/The time go past my eyes”. Elsewhere on side
one, ‘The Hidden Ambience of a Lost Art’ evokes contemporary minimalism and
structural oddness that would be out of place on a Gastr del Sol record, but
with a lyricism foreign to Grubbs and O’Rourke. One side two, ‘Documenting
Crop Rotations’ could almost be accused of satirising both Hood’s dominant
thematic concerns and basement-fi recording ethos. ‘Her Innocent Stock of
Words’ is possibly my favourite Hood song ever and it is difficult to
imagine it being equalled, tapping as it does into the magnificent spring of
melodic invention from whence things like the Chills’ ‘Pink Frost’ bubbled
up. Pure jangling bliss and epic teenage emotions culminate in the
bizarre-love-triangle chorus “I’d die for her/she’d die for you/You’d die
for her”. ‘Trust Me I’m a Stomach’ takes these sentiments and throws them
down a mine shaft and the only thing that escapes is the repeated phrase
“touched by those ancient hands”. ‘Resonant 1942’ is as close as I ever want
to get to a genuine air raid, and it is difficult to resist the urge to seek
shelter as Hood give free reign to bomb-bursts and machine gun rattle of
junglist percussion. Reaming tracks on the side are filled with fascinating
production touches which point possible future directions for the band. Lo-fi
four track clatter co-exists peacefully with sampled and sequenced guitars
and found sounds. The title track creates a hypnotic dreamscape by looped
strings and organ drones, with spoken vocal colourations providing an
enigmatic narrative thread throughout. Percussive splashes of synthesiser
add to the unease. Nymanesque systems music patterns seem to be an influence
on ‘Love is Dead But Never Buried’ and ‘Silent Years’ on the single that is
included with the vinyl version of ‘Silent ‘88’, which also makes good use
of world-weary half-intoned vocals to reinforce the theme of elegant
quietude and understatement that is the final impression left by this
record. ‘Silent ‘88’ is almost a manifesto for new British rock, drawing
together a powerful set of influences and swirling them into a potent mix of
soundscapes realised with brooding immediacy by the ‘hit-and-run’ recording
methods used. Where so much current British music is obsessed with
style-over-substance and the sentimental rewriting of past pop glories,
‘Silent ‘88’ demonstrates that bands like Hood are genuinely interested in
absorbing new ideas and creating great stuff from those ideas.
Richard sums
up this first period of the band’s existence:
Although
the first two LPs were critically praised, there is only so long that you
can go on recording in that fashion. Many of the ‘Cabled Linear Traction’
and ‘Silent ‘88’ recordings were done by Chris alone, and some with just
Chris and myself. These weren’t recorded as LPs, they were just collections
of songs stuck together. Listening back to ‘CLT’, it sounds lovely and
flows nicely. ‘Silent ‘88’ was very difficult to do and nearly impossible to
put together and may be a better LP for it. All the early singles will be
compiled next year on an LP being put out by Happy Go Lucky, and it will be
interesting to see the response to it in these more acceptably experimental
days.
Early 1996
saw a rush of fine singles, further increasing the band’s profile, and the
band added another member during this time, Craig Tattersall, who had
previous been an additional player for gigs. This now five piece line-up
recorded the as-yet-unreleased third LP ‘Rustic Houses, Forlorn Valleys’
with Third Eye Foundation’s Matt Elliot.
Having
fallen into possession of an exceedingly no-fi sounding preview cassette of
three tracks of ‘Rustic Houses, Forlorn Valleys’ (a great, filmic title that
Terence Davies would be proud of), I can say that disappointment with this
upcoming Planet (where else?) release is unlikely. One of them is, of
course, called ‘Untitled’ and it continues the tradition of simple and
resonant arrangements such as those for ‘Fades to End a Day’ and ‘Rural
Colours’, and its meditative excursion begins with the line “The ground is
still wet from the rain”, and ends with the repeated thought “I regret
everything” but with startling tape effects overlaying all with electronic
weirdness (or it may just have been my tape copy). ‘The Leaves Grow Old and
Fall and Die’ (have they been listening to Mourning Cloak?) is a pastoral
narrative of considerable cumulative power. Wraith-like female vocals add
wistfulness to the resignation of the spoken lyrics. The same female
vocalist takes the lead to half-sing the very strange ‘Boer Farmsteads’. All
three tracks are almost completely acoustic (apart from tape affects) and
work through atmosphere and strong chord sequences.
As for the
future, Hood have plenty of things in the pipeline. Richard explains:
We want
to continue to experiment with music and push it as far as we can and try to
keep it fresh in the long term by using different instrumental, recording
and song writing techniques and ways of presenting the music. We are
interested in introducing visuals into live performances, probably slides
and Super 8. Just really a matter of time and energy. We have been using
samplers for a couple of years now, but not really in a live environment. We
embrace technology as long as it can be used in a positive way. There are
endless ideas but we never have time to realise them, or forget about them!
As soon as the ideas and enthusiasm stop, so will Hood.
Here’s
hoping that is not going to happen anytime soon.
Written by
Tony Dale based on an interview by Phil McMullen
© Ptolemaic
Terrascope 1996
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