These days, if you were to catch us saying something along the lines of ‘we were born in the wrong country,’ it’s likely for… well, reasons. But it’s something we’ve been saying for many, many years, and it’s got nothing to do with politics, environment, or culture. For us, it comes down to the music.
One of the deepest facepalms we’ve experienced as proliferators of weird music across the globe, but currently being based in the U.S., is that almost no one knows who we’re talking about when we say Mclusky, or bandleader Andrew Falcous’ alternate project The Future of the Left.
The first time we ever heard one of Falcous’ projects was using Pandora, ye olde internet radio station where you could put in an artist and it would generate playlists of similar (generally) artists. Somehow, after putting in The Mars Volta, Future of the Left’s “destroywhitchurch.com” came on, and we were absolutely hooked – we found ourselves intrigued with their poetically subversive delivery, from the destructive bass and angular guitars to Falco’s exceptionally demonic speak / singing.
Finding out about FOTL first, though, was interesting, as when we went back to figure out what Mclusky was all about, we found ourselves on the fence. But that’s probably on us – FOTL’s barbs are a little easier to digest than Mclusky’s even nastier pills of bitterness. Rest assured, we liked both, we’d just reach for The Plot Against Common Sense and Travels With Myself and Another more than Mclusky does Dallas. But this past week, things just might have changed with Mclusky’s newest, the world is still here and so are we.
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It’s hard not to note that the last official Mclusky album came out in 2004, but not because you hear some kind of inevitably tired trudge through time in songs like “Checkhov’s Guns” and “Way of the Exploding Dickhead.” It’s because you don’t. To our ears, it even sounds like Mclusky have gone somehow back in time, taking everything that was great about Mclusky does Dallas and The Difference Between Me and You is That I’m Not On Fire and came back to push it all into blistering overdrive.
However they’ve done it, you’ve got to tip your hat to Damien Sayell, the band’s current bassist who keen eyes might recognize from The St. Pierre Snake Invasion. The fiery chonks of low-end are nothing to be sniffed at here, and they’re a perfect foil for Falco’s face-melting vocals. Speaking of face-melting, the guitar tone on this record is also something of a monster in itself, often opting for a far darker and down the middle approach than we’re used to, but to magnificent effect on songs like “The Digger You Deep” and “Not All Steeplejacks.” It’s also great to hear those classic Eggleston drums again, who’s always taken a very methodical approach to crafting the perfectly off-kilter beats for whatever sonic bludgeoning awaits.
In a way, we almost feel like posers now that we are unashamedly off the fence when it comes to Mclusky. Part of us may still yearn for new FOTL, but we’ll take what we can get while we’re all still here. Post-punkers and post-hardcore citizens, take note – Mclusky is back, and they will not be taking prisoners.
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