Catalogue no. JMMCD009
Release date: 08/06/2009
Format: Digital, CD
Track Listing:
01. Beginning
02. Alaska
03. Alfred, Light The Fires
04. Lung
05. The Making Of The Making Of
06. Little Bean
07. Middle
08. Dolores
09. Desire Lines
10. Seeds
11. (We Used To Draw) Treasure Maps
12. Last Day On Earth
13. End
14. A New Road
Buy This Release:
£8
Also available from: CDBaby | ITunes | Amazon MP3 | Spotify
The B Of the Bang – ‘Beginning.Middle.End’ (Jelly Maid Music)
Back in January, I was pretty impressed by the debut single from the B Of the Bang ‘Alfred, Light the Fires.’ I was inspired to write ‘Imagine Broken Records invading the soul of neil hannon out of the Divine Comedy and driving the Duke Special out…rather special.’
Well, the band have more than delivered on the promise of that single. It’s astonishing to believe that this is only their debut album (and I’ve just checked the press release to confirm that), because like the forthcoming Broken Records album, this is an astonishingly accomplished record. Debut or not, it is a pretty staggering record that becomes additcive astonishingly quickly.
So many bands claim, almost always wrongly, that ‘Our music is pretty hard to categorise’ on the grounds that it’s preferable to sayign ‘We sound like a third-rate Coldplay.’ The B Of the Bang are actually impressively hard to pigeonhole -yet even more impressively, it works together very well. Gorgeous moments that might be folk (or should that be anti-folk?), eastern european influences here and there and epic moments MINUS the bombast.
Look, I’m going to lay my cards on the table here. This is one of the best albums you will hear this year. Please go and buy it when it’s released. If you buy it and don’t agree…well, let’s just say subjective opinions can sometimes be overrated.
****1/2
In the same way that Bon Iver is just Justin Vernon, and Blue Roses is Laura Groves, Portsmouth’s Christopher Whitear is The B Of The Bang. Against a backdrop of seaside living, dreary jobs and grotty pub gigs he has gathered together an assortment of musicians to create his debut album Beginning Middle End released on the 8th June through Jelly Maid Music
Describing The B of the Bang as “A lo fi, electronic-tinged, anti-folk cake with a gothic, grunge icing,” Whitear gets near the mark. However beneath the enjoyably gloomy sounds and wealth of instrumentation that sees appearances from banjo, guitar, violin, cello, keyboard, glockenspiel, loops, pianos and more, Beginning Middle End often follows a template based on traditional rock structures. For instance, at least four of the songs on this album, Alaska, Lung, Little Bean and A New Road invoke a dynamic of a quiet start, gradually building to reach a climax; yet due to the variety of instrumentation, each song sounds distinctly different. The reference points are many but can be broadly categorised into bands that have an earnest and serious sound; Editors and Radiohead being two obvious influences. However there are lighter touches with the almost chirpy Delores, the vaudeville jazz folk of Alfred Light The Fires and the acoustic medieval campfire balladry of Desire Lines, where rather disconcertingly the band appear to have left a kettle boiling in the background.
Tying these different styles together is Whitear’s baritone vocal, which has a slight warble towards the end of certain notes and occasional over enunciation in the style of a very English gentleman. His voice is at its best when it doesn‘t try too hard to emulate other deep noted singers which he is obviously a fan of. Take (We Used To Draw) Treasure Maps, one of the newer songs on the album. A misty, mystical, folkish song with military drumming and a beautiful backing vocal from Tallie Kane. Here Whitear is brooding with restraint and sounds all the more powerful for it. The addition of elegiac strings gives the song a meaty resonance despite its subtlety. It is worth buying the album for this track alone. Likewise Alaska, with its ships fog horn synth, ghostly asthmatic atmospherics and simple pounding electronic beat works because of its lack of over complication. Pared down to just one line repeated over and over Whitear sings “It only happens once, you won’t believe it when it does,” in a relaxed and hopeful way.
Ultimately Beginning Middle End is a collection of well crafted songs that are often the sum of their influences. It is when Whitear rises above these influences, through simple subtle song writing and not trying too hard that The B of the Bang really finds beauty amongst the shadows.
With possibly the greatest start to an album since Bright Eyes – Fevers and Mirrors, the tone is set, although it is a tone that will constantly shift throughout the journey. The eerie, hypnotic ‘Beginning’ gently caresses you into the album, and provides a nice contrast to the effervescent ‘Alaska’.
In spite of the deeply affecting pathos filled lyrics of ‘Lung’, you can’t help but feel strangely uplifted by it. As the song drives towards it’s thunderous crescendo, you are filled with a wonderful contrast of emotions. Never before has dark felt so light. It truly captures the oxymoronic beauty to The B of the Bang. An anti-anthem if you will.
‘Little Bean’ is the musical equivalent to being w*nked-off by a highly attractive, slightly older women. It starts of as the sort of gothic folk song you’d probably hear sung around the fire at Camp Crystal Lake. As things drift along, we are given clues of something lurking underneath with small teasings of feedback. By the time the harmonica comes in, we can feel it coming, something beautiful is about to happen. When it finally comes, the pay off is blissful. I can honestly say, those first few seconds where the electric guitar tears in are one of my favourite few seconds of music. Ever. Even on the 14th, 15th listen, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
‘Delores’ is a fine example of how The B of the Bang is far more than just creating a dark, sombre atmosphere, they also know their way around a good, catchy pop-tune. One that Rivers Cuomo would be proud of. Yet it never feels contrived or as if they are operating out of thier comfort zone. By the end of the song, you’re begging for another chorus and the fact that you don’t get one makes it all the better. On a side note, may I also add that this song contains my current favourite B of the Bang lyric ‘The Emphasis should be romantic, but no one got the joke but you’
‘Treasure Maps’ has done something to my brain. It’s as if, after the first listen, the song secreted a strange mini organism through my ear canal into my temporal lobe which now proceeds to play it on a constant loop.
‘Last Day on Earth’ again highlights the contradictory nature of the B of the Bang. A lovelorn lament wrapped up in a toe-tapping country-tinged ditty. If Ryan Adams locked the Cardinals in a dark room full of corpses for a week and then released them to play a barn dance, this might be the song they play.
Quite simply the album is a marvel. A stunning piece of work.
Beautifully schizophrenic, ethereally haunting and darkly uplifting from Beginning, middle to End.
Stunning debut by former PS demo faves who mix fragile folk with deliciously evil baroque rock & roll.
Held together by singer Wit’s doomy baritone, they excel at everything from the simple bounce of Dolores to The Making Of – the sound of Will Oldham’s country as sung by Scott Walker.
Gorgeously textured, the likes of the achingly beautiful Light The Fires are just too good to be neglected. 9/10
It’s a rare thing to be able to listen to something deemed as easy listening, and yet feel a bowel voidingly disturbing presence. Radiohead making love to Sigur Rós is the best way to describe the sensation that is listening to this album, but The B Of The Bang sound nothing like either of the above artists.
It’s easy enough to pick out of the odd influence, but the overall sound is something very special. Just when you think you have the album sussed ‘Dolores’ kicks in, a (sort of) straight forward track with amusing and intensionally sloppy lyrics. ‘Desire Lines’ then throws you off the trail even further. If anyone has ever heard ‘Diana’ by Comus, imagine that, but replace the terrifying psychedelic sound with a soothing one.
Anyone who can find a single flaw with Beginning. Middle. End. deserves to be taken away by the men in white coats, this album is nothing short of a goddamn triumph.
Rating Out of 10: 10
The B Of The Bang are difficult to pin down for even a moment. Writing about Beginning. Middle. End, the debut album from the Portsmouth collective, often feels like shooting at a moving target. Every song seems determined to be distinct from every other: indeed, the only constant seems to be vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Christopher Whitear’s rich baritone.
Beginning. Middle. End. is an album in the best spirit of experimentation. It’s nearly impossible to work out how you move so quickly from “Alaska”’s epic guitar melody to the swinging piano and jazz bassline of “Alfred, Light the Fires”, yet it works almost flawlessly.
Without diluting their sound or stumbling into inconsistency, the band dabble in an impressively wide range of styles, from the brooding gothic-orchestral feel of “(We Used To Draw) Treasure Maps” to the twanging folk guitar and mournful harmonica of “Little Bean”, capably blended with some very elegant songwriting.
The result is a record that sounds incredibly polished: grand, sweeping melodies and compellingly dark interludes. Whitear channels the spirits of great frontmen from Nick Cave to Neil Hannon, and does so with considerable class and an incredibly powerful voice. Listening to Beginning. Middle. End. is a rare (if uniquely intense and at times unsettling) pleasure.
4.5/5
The B of the Bang are a collective of human beings (14) that “when gathered together, have the ability to straighten corners”. Hmm, any band that claims to have the ability to turn the bent, straight, has to be listened too!
The website of tThe B of the Bang can be found at thebofthebang.co.uk and has many of the same qualities as the bands’ music; it is neat, well structured, coherent, slightly macabre in its tone, yet strangely uplifting. On the website there is more than one quote that eulogises this band, and in fairness it is probably rightfully so.
After a little intro number, Track Two sets the bar for the rest of the album and “Alaska” is a gem. It is reminiscent of the debut of Arcade Fire. The same driving energy, ambient sound-scapes, simple chord structures and driving 4/4 beat that builds and builds to its own natural crescendo which is all backed up ably by a fine understated vocal.
Track Three “Alfred Light the Fires” takes the album in a slightly different direction, twisting the mood into Cabaret territory. It is almost circus music and wouldn’t be out of place in a Dr Who time travelling episode. It is a fun song, while being strangely eerie.
Track Four “Lung” raises the tempo again with another climactic song. The bands lead vocalist had the ability to sound like Nick Cave at times, and doesn’t sound out of place within the realm of this album, and is excellently supported with nice harmonies and lovely delicate instrumentation; glockenspiels, harmonicas, banjos, double bass and xylophones to name a few.
The way that B of the Bang have the ability build their tracks must be commended and they no doubt have the ability to get a room, no matter how big, dancing and screaming. I am sure their live show, (imagine the 14 people) would be something to behold indeed.
Track Five “The Making of the Little Bean” slows the tempo again, but in a much more restrained and “normal” manner. The Making of the Little Bean uses an organ lead line, which is highly effective, along with what sounds like Caribbean steel drums. It is a lovely song; simple, melodic, yet highly effective. In fairness the whole of “Beginning.Middle.End” is strong and should be listened too by anyone looking for a new band that has originality, melody, energy and emotion at its heart.
Track Nine “Delores” adds a new dimension to the album, with the addition of a female vocal. If I am honest, if there had been more of the female vocal throughout the album, The B of the Bang could have elevated themselves to greatness. Alas, the female vocal is too thin on the ground, but perhaps this is something they will use more of in the future.
Track Eleven “ Treasure Maps” is another gem. It is an alt-folk number, with lovely vocal harmonies and a sumptuous cello line. On listening, one would really believe at points that you are on a ship, tilting towards a pirate treasure. If there is only one song you check out by this band, this should be the one, trust me.
Artfully dishevelled Portsmouth collective come good with their debut album!
Those of you who keep up with reviews here at Subba Cultcha will have already come to the conclusion that we’re big fans of Jelly Maid music artists The B Of The Bang. So it’s with excitement and just a hint of trepidation (when you’re really into a band, new material is always best approached with caution lest it be a huge disappointment – ask anyone who used to like the Killers and bought their latest effort) that I slip this disc into the CD player. There are old favourites here, ‘Alfred Light The Fires’ with it’s jaunty jazz beats, the trippy minimalism of ‘Alaska’ and the heart rending beauty of ‘Lung’ (a track that, due to a personal loss, renders me a gibbering tear soaked mess every time I hear it) are all well known to fans of Wit and his collective of like minded minstrels. The album is punctuated by snippets of music, the titular ‘Beginning’, ‘Middle’ and ‘End’, but we’ll breeze past them and get to the meat of the new tracks, there are some great new tunes, from ‘Dolores’ with it’s almost upbeat feel and some great backing vocals courtesy of the lovely Roberta from Hold Fast, to ‘The Making Of The Making Of’, another minimalist effort that has echoes of a stripped back Divine Comedy. Pick of the new material though is the haunting ‘(We Used To Draw) Treasure Maps’. This song feels, in mood at least, like a companion piece to ‘Lung’, both of them propelled along by Christopher Whitear’s powerful but soothing baritone. There used to be a charmingly shambolic feel to The B Of The Bang, one backed up by their ever-changing line up, but on this evidence they’ve got their act together and, that being the case, they’ll be a force to be reckoned with.
I’m assuming The B of the Bang take their name from the hideous looking Mancunian sculpture that earlier this year got dismantled. There is a certain amount of mystery that surrounds the collective, led by a multi instrumentalist known as Wit, a man whose voice sounds like a cross between Snow Patrol’s Guy Lightbody and Roddy Woomble.
It is fair to say that Wit is not the greatest lyricist; it would perhaps be cruel to refer to his lyrics as embarrassing, but the couplets are certainly cringe worthy rather than clever. Lyrics in this case matter not (apart from on ‘Little Bean’ but we shall address this matter soon enough), for it is the strength of composition that allows Beginning Middle End to scale impressive heights.
Everything on the album is big, epic, cathedral filling. from ‘Alaska’ where Wit’s voice sounds desolate, the drums remind me a little of the drums in Arcade Fire’s ‘Rebellion (Lies)’ before reaching a crescendo, the song suddenly breaks out like a mournful sunflower and dazzles bombastically. ‘Alfred, Light the Fires’ is bouncier in tone and sets up the contemplative nature of ‘Lung’, which again strives for greatness, arms aloft in a Christ like pose. It is the kind of song that bridges the gap between being genuinely earnest and heartwarming and going the other way altogether, appearing emotionally awkward.
‘The Making of the Making of’ is a stripped back minimalist effort; you can hear the timid xylophone in the distance, though the change of pace is welcome after the epic opening. Lulling somewhat ‘Little Bean’ begins to sound quite moth-eaten before rocking out, unfortunately the lyrical atrocities committed on this song are unforgiveable “I’m a little bean / no one noticed me”. I dare you to get through the second half of the song without bursting into hysterics. ‘Delores’ again proves that like with Paul Banks from Interpol, you’ve got to ignore the words and concentrate on the music “Delores you said you would never ignore us”. It gets worse when Delores is rhymed with thesaurus.
‘Desire Lines’ is one of the more delightful moments of Beginning Middle End with Wit duetting with Jessica from Hall of Mirrors. ‘(We used to Draw) Treasure Maps’ sounds like it was recorded on a rickety ship languishing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, you can almost imagine it being composed under the calming influence of rum at night, with kerosene lamps flickering as the waves rock the vessel, building up before the perfect storm.
There are a couple of obvious faults with Beginning Middle End, I’m still caught in two minds as to whether the woeful lyrics harm a few of the songs on this album, certainly one or two become comical in spite of the relatively serious tone of the album, the album also peters out, dramatically losing steam in its final quarter, ‘A New Road’ that draws a curtain over proceedings is cluttered and structured similarly to some of the earlier songs, the quiet, tentative opening, before exploding into life. I’d go as far as saying that this is an encouraging debut, but there is a lack of attention to detail that prevents this album from becoming potentially brilliant.
The B Of The Bang – peculiar name, peculiar band.
What appears to be at heart a four-piece is joined by a menagerie of guest cast extras on everything from cello, vocals and piano to a circus of three further guitarists. The B Of The Bang themselves play practically every instrument under the sun on Beginning. Middle. End. (banjo, ukulele, mandolin, double bass, xylophone, glockenspiel), as well as the usual guitar-bass-drums-piano/keyboards line-up. Purely from that eclectic jumble it appears there are hints of early Jethro Tull, a more acoustic Cardiacs, or Broken Records politely mugging the Divine Comedy (“excuse me, Sir, could we trouble you for your song writing muse?”).
If Beginning. Middle. End. is The B Of The Bang’s only album they can quite legitimately claim that they’ve covered as many bases and as much ground as they can. Although released on the producer’s own label, it’s clear that they’ve binned any pretence at going for a hi-fi production and settled for a determinedly lo-fi approach. The three instrumentals that punctuate the album are deliberately mixed low and seem almost submerged in the overall art-folk/avant-pop mannerisms; “Alaska” is all laid-back ballad material before the drums are smacked into submission and the group launch into an untutored mass-harmony effect for the choruses.
“Alfred, Light The Fires” is the first real intimation of an anti-folk stance, combining baritone vocals with an almost Olde London piano knees-up before sideswiping suddenly into a cabaret-esque interlude. The B Of The Bang seem cursed by the committee system of writing and appear to let everyone have their own ideas in every song, leading to a complex yet irritating breadth of styles that never quite gels; only the voice holds it together. Otherwise you could find yourself looking for a map and a compass to help you negotiate the forest of musical by-ways on display.
“The Making Of The Making Of” starts with a church organ and a slow vocal before what sound to be milk bottles are tapped to provide a melody. It’s kind of acoustic, kind of folky and kind of slow. “Delores” is the sound of a man swallowing a rhyming dictionary and then finding ever more inventive ways of subverting the initial premise; the backing jogs along with the inevitable changes of pace and musical instrumentation but it does, at least, have a memorable hook. It’s the closest anyone will come to the Divine Comedy in a while, that’s for sure.
“Desire Lines” recalls nothing so much as The Sea Nymphs and William D. Drake (both Cardiacs alumni) with its male/female counterpoints, acoustic guitar and low-end buzz. Lyrically it’s difficult to pinpoint, but the barely audible drone creates a real feeling of threat and menace. “Seeds” returns The B Of The Bang to nu-folk-rock territory before Beginning. Middle. End. stutters slowly to a crawl and then a halt. “(We used to draw) Treasure Maps” is a cello’n’banjo ballad that marches like an army, melancholic like a crying child.
“Last Day On Earth” takes on a gentle faux-country lap-steel stance and then heads into ever more submerged sounds in penultimate track “End”. By this point The B Of The Bang have dropped the bang and picked up the bland: “A New Road” is a poor man’s Christmas song designed to finish Beginning. Middle. End. on a note of hope. Unfortunately, it is the least distinguished and most recyclable song on the album, so it leaves a somewhat bitter taste on the palate.
With its cock-eyed attempts at trying to be all things to all people (both outside and inside the group) Beginning. Middle. End. is, at best, only a partial success. Some of the songs are fine, but it’s the three buried instrumentals that really hooked me and I’m sure that’s not the route the band are following.
Only God knows how to sum this up.