The Playwrights – Guy Debord is Really Dead
Hailing from Bristol, The Playwrights are the kind of band that remind you that intelligent music and intelligent lyrics are not mutually exclusive propositions. Usually, when one mentions intelligence, you think of either reams of “evocative” prose in The Wire about middle-eights and pioneering chord sequences concerning bands who do more noodling than the chefs at Wagamama. Or else it’ll be lyrics full of literary references and situationist posturing . . . Oh.
Okay, so they may have the situationist credentials, but they also have the kind of stuttering, angular tightness that prevents anything appearing too obtuse. Occasionally, lyrics are forced into gaps that are slightly too small for them, but generally they are sharp:
My hopes were dashed like flattened prefabs,
So cover me with soil and leaves
And through the bare branched trees
I’ll see her truth revealed.
Second track, Bridge Burning Cooperative, is full of sputtering trumpet and strange chord sequence crescendos. Marvellous.
The Playwrights are obviously a band with a peculiar past and a fascinating future. This is a real grower. 4/5.