You can always rely on Nasty Little Lonely to throw a spanner in the works, it’s the reason that you have to love them so much. Just when the music scene seems to have found its beige balance of acoustic troubadours in wide brimmed hats, skinny-jeaned alt-rock fashionistas and production line pop liberally sampling the same old same old, along comes the latest single from Bristol’s most interesting noise makers. Howling like post-punk banshees they emerge from their industrial wastelands all sharp edges and challenging defiance, barbarians at the gates of popular culture.
They growl and groove, blast and boogie in equal measure, come on like a tsunami of burning oil and belligerent attitude and lay down musical layers so dense and dangerous that you will drown in its dark back wash. But behind the aggression and musical density is that same tribal groove and mutated melody thatyou might have thought had died with the likes of The Gun Club, Jesus Lizard or the Riot Grrls. Nasty Little Lonely is here to summon that ghost, welcome to the grooviest seance in town.
This is a band that isn’t just welcome, they are necessary, musical thorns in the side of the modern music scene, not only reminding us of a more ferocious and interesting past but beating an alternative route through the cloying commercialism of an era happy to settle for a lowest cultural and creative common denominator. Time to celebrate, that bland party is all but over.