The problem with albums about depression is that they are the most literal exposition of the principle that an artist has suffered for their work, and now it’s our turn – and doubly so when it’s a 90-minute punk-opera wrenched screaming from their very soul, as here.
There’s a brief overture of droning dischord before singer Patrick Stickles unveils a series of furious punk blurts delivered in a laryngitic howl reminiscent of The Young Ones’ Vyvyan – momentarily amusing applied to charming sentiments like “I thought that you and me were getting on really well”, but utterly exhausting by track five (of 29).
There are moments of respite, notably a seven-minute silent “[Intermission]”, and variety is provided by the nine-minute “More Perfect Union”, where tom-toms, flute and bass clarinet combine in Sun Ra style, the arrangement gradually shifting into full-blown prog-rock bombast.
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