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A review of...
Lorelle Meets The Obsolete live at The Dalston Victoria, London
Here’s some very good news – there are people out there who really care about your difficult to satiate musical tastes, people so looking-out-for-your-back that they’re willing to scour the planet for something sufficiently new and a bit different, to re-arouse your jaded esotericism. There are people who will spin a globe until it rests on a country or countries whose alternative musical landscape many of us will be no doubt be oblivious to, a place like Mexico? Like I said, this is good news, especially when the product of the searching happens to be Lorelle Meets the Obsolete.
Often you find a band with the ability to be entirely mesmeric in performance – it’s a beautiful place to be, things outside that bubble are, at least for however long that performance lasts, rendered meaningless, pointless, unimportant, whatever. Lorelle Meets the Obsolete have that down – there’s a satisfying variety to what they can do, through sweeping dirges, romping feel-good bounce-abouts and endless swirls of echoes and rising layer upon rising layer of noise – throbbing, pulsating, ascendant noise – it’s psych-rock of the most enjoyable kind, the sort that grabs by the scruff of the neck and pulls you into its world. Retro-looking perhaps, but then seriously, what isn’t – there’s some shoegaze here, a little krautrock there, all pieced together with intelligence and variety to bring us music with those qualities we came here looking and hoping for – something a bit new, and something a bit different.