Just how does a band simply vanish?
Death In Vegas: remember them? Four excellent albums, each largely different to the one prior; each accessible, but uncompromising; arty but not awkward; each tapping into the emotional core of the listener, yet capable of soundtracking a party.
It only took one badly-received album for them to disappear. Well, not quite – it was one badly-received album, some tantalisingly promising but aborted recording sessions with Oasis and the onset of Landfill Indie that cast them into the Great Lost Bands Desert.
Try googling them now – they don’t seem up to much, which is further proof that the Rock Universe operates on broadly different, confusing rules that seem especially so when compared to, say, common sense.
Never mind scientists attempting to find a Unifying Theory for this Universe, how about one that could ally prudent thinking to Rock ‘n’ Roll?
Speaking of which, I have the feeling that Son Capson will resist any attempts to integrate common sense into his songs.
The proof resides in When I Close My Eyes I See Tetris, a song that manically toys with the freshly dismembered remains of folk, acid-rock, acid-house, acid-acid and sea shanties, all the while cackling brightly.
Son Capson // When I Close My Eyes I See Tetris
When I Close My Eyes I See Tetris is the song that The Joker whistles along to whilst soaking in a deep bubble bath. Normality flounders helplessly as the dementedly springy beat squirts technicolor poster paint in every direction.
Son Capson‘s music is a vicious, yet necessary assault on normality, and a blisteringly crazed vindication of intuition and opposition of convention.