That I Am Kloot’s John Bramwell practically shares a post code with fellow weariest, Damon Gough is no bad thing, being that our broad alternative universe is tragically short of cynical northern bastards intent on wreaking the glummest of havocs on the usual lyrical romance and knocking sevens bells of stout out of the traditional parlances of rock. There aren’t enough misanthropes in the world, so what few there are, we really ought to cherish.
By the band’s own admission ‘Gods And Monsters’ represents a fuller, more expansive chapter in I Am Kloot’s musical autobiography, but there’s still that unequivocal use of space in their production suite too. Admittedly there’s more instruments, more urgency and more confidence, but that doesn’t mean Bramwell, Hargreaves and Jobson fill up every nook and cranny with some spurious, ill-favoured device. It’s still a very ‘live’ sound and at no point does it sound laboured. ‘No Dircetion Home’ provides a moody, thumping storm cloud of an opening, whilst ‘Gods And Monsters’ builds upon that urgency with a freakish brew of Wurlitzers, blinking pianos and broken time-signatures. Bramwell’s twisted realism, and dry, sardonic and often surreal wit has rarely been this derisive, or for that matter this decisive. ‘An Ordinary Girl’ wriggles beneath an oilcloth of resentment, it’s circus mannerisms and side-show freakery literally erupting to the surface, dense, subtle, mysterious and dark. Tracks like ‘The Stars Look Familiar’, ‘Stray’ and ‘I Believe’ on the otherhand offer the prettiest of melodies and most experienced of observations, recalling the tender, lyrical strokes of master storytellers like Don McClean more often than not.
This is a tirelessly consistent album proofed by fire, tenderness and venom in three perfectly weighted measures. A credit to anyone’s career.