Cheap Teeth's new EP
On a burning hot day in May a sound comes crooning from my bedroom speakers with all the swagger and menace of Jim Morrison on a jet black motorbike. Edinburgh-based Cheap Teeth have finally birthed their debut EP into the strange and confusing world we currently find ourselves in and it is beautiful. Give Me More, Show Me Less was recorded by Catholic Action’s Chris McCrory at legendary Chem19 studios, and it features everything we've come to love about Cheap Teeth so far and more.
The Wind and The Rain rises gradually in chaotic noise before reaching a thunderous roar. Released as a single prior to the EP the track serves as a battlecry that sets the bar high for the rest of the record with heavy sludgy guitars and beckoning vocals that spurt out like the sermon of a manic preacher. The rhythm of the song stomps and sways like a drunken giant. It’s heavy and sinister before bursting into a chanting chorus, the music of which seems to shimmer with optimism but it’s difficult to tell if the lyric is one of hope or defeat; “My time, has come”.
Greed seems bipolar. The first section of the song is slow and sludgy like black tar sliding down the pit of a well. The narrator hangs his head low and speaks with condemnation; “This town is full of blood, and the bodies run green with greed”. Then in an instant, the mood of the song changes and the beat becomes sharp and fast. The vocals become violent and manic, howling with glee. But it changes again just as quick, and slows down into a beautiful 60’s garage ballad that wraps around your head like clouds. This is definitely my favourite song on the EP.
Detectress sounds as though it wouldn’t be out of place on The Strokes album, First Impressions of Earth. The guitar melody twists around the bass in a way that’s sweet but strange under beckoning vocals that croon in unison. It’s a catchy song with a haunting peculiarity.
Belly of the Beast plays like a nightmarish church sermon, which makes sense as religion seems to be a recurring theme in Cheap Teeth’s lyricism. Monk-like chants hang over heavy garage guitars and singer Joe Laycock shouts back and forth to his band like a priest to his masses in a tone that escalates into pain and madness even more so than any other track on the EP. The song calms down into something reminiscent of The Shadows before building back up again into a crashing climax of cymbals and organ.
It’s an incredible and distinctive EP that spits and snarls with a coolness reminiscent of The Doors but still of its own and I am itching to hear what the band do next.
