Not since Deer Leader released their album We’ve Met Before, Haven’t We? have I been as intrigued as I am by the new EP from Son of the Right Hand. To take the play on words of the EPs title, Pscenic Root, the band have created a sonic soundscape that takes a journey through genres borrowing snippets along the way and pairing them with found sounds and other intriguing instrumental arrangements to create an overall sound that despite the references I’ll make, is a sound all of their own. I could listen to these five songs a dozen time and hear something different each time that will delight, confuse and intrigue me in equal measures. Listening to these songs is certainly a journey of discovery, a bit psychedelic, a bit emotional, a bit raw, a bit experimental, it’s a melting pot that pulls everything the band has produced across these five unique tracks and gives you more than five musical gems, but an insight into the weird and wonderful world of Son of the Right Hand.
Opening the EP is Bad Tooth, the song creeping up on you as the mellow slow build of the hazey intro worms its way into your psyche, instruments and vocals blending as one, as the song progresses there is an uneasy tension afoot as the squall of instruments layer and contort into a crashing crescendo, the song ending up like an unholy alliance between The House of Love and Twilight Sad. Anhedonia picks up the baton, with a wall of sound that sits somewhere between My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain, akin to The Telescopes beneath that beautifully textured noisescape, the dual vocals from Benjamin & Éireann really hit the mark, the perfect foil for each other.
At the centre of the EP is probably, for me, the standout track, both musically and with the message at its core Refuweegie (the House Isn’t Full) takes a swipe at the misplaced nationalism, of course I mean blatant racism, of the flagshaggers who are have taken to protesting outside the horribly monikered (stand up the UK press and so called journalism), “immigrant hotels” like The Cladhan in Falkirk, completely missing the irony that they are probably the biggest risk to the people they are supposedly protecting, with white British males being far and away the largest perpetrators of crime in these nations. I’m ranting again… anyway Refuweegee is the antithesis of all that, it is the musical equivalent of the now famous Kenmure Street protest, the overall influence for the band writing the song, which includes a snippet of a recording from that very day. This is message from true Scots, from the Scots I want to know, a call to all nations that we will welcome you with open arms and embrace you, rather than the hateful racist bigots outside The Cladham. Musically this is about as experimental as it gets, blending traditional instruments, with dissonant, discordant noise, pipe organs, tribal drumming, low key vocals – every time I listen I hear something new that I missed the last time around. This is a statement track and I can’t get enough of it. Say it loud and say it clear refugees are welcome here.
Penultimate song, Kilter is, if you’ll excuse me, another slightly left field, off-kilter song. Arab Strap-esque in it’s sound, only if they had a female vocalist, the creative sound of rainfall providing a mesmerising backdrop to the already hypnotic nature of the song. Closed Doors is the atmospheric EP closer, enigmatically melancholic, with Benjamin and Éireann trading lyrical couplets, there is a beautiful sadness to the lyrics, reflected in the arresting sorrow that bleeds from the carefully constructed arrangement of the music.
Listen and listen again, this EP will have you captivated as you revel in its many musical textures and twists and turns and end up completely drawn into the world of Son of the Right Hand
The EP is released this Friday, the 14th of November which also sees the band play a release day gig in The Glad Cafe in Glasgow’s south side, supported by Yama Rama and Unspeakable Monday.
Son of the Right Hand (@sonoftherighthandband) • Instagram photos and videos
https://tidal.com/album/452608408/u
