Any kind of creative endeavour that dispenses with rigid perimeters is risky, yet potentially rewarding.
Here, the road branches in two distinctly different directions – one paved with ARTISTIC GLORY and signposted ‘Creative Genius’; the other paved with the unsold copies of Metal Machine Music, and signposted ‘What Were You Thinking, Lou Reed?’
In between all this, freeform jazz sits awkwardly, as freeform jazz is wont to do. But, thankfully, this is not the story of freeform jazz.
This is, however, the story of Quebec’s Interceiving, a band who have so determinedly abandoned musical convention that they decided to call their best song Wrong Oboe, for Christ’s sake.
Ineveitably, there is no oboe in the track. How did Interceiving arrive at such a point, such a song? On one hand, the individual elements are distinct, and on the other, they dovetail so neatly that they surely couldn’t be a simple stroke of improv-fortuitousness.
Big, fat (nearly, indeed, phat) synth-bassline throb and shudder, sound washes loosely from here to there, and the beat is relentless. It shouldn’t work.
It ought to sound like the GarageBand spare-time meanderings of a bored Computer Sciences student, but it doesn’t. This is testimony, then, to a band whose togetherness is just so, and who know each other’s next move before the note has been played.
So, happily, it turns out that Wrong Oboe is a towering example of the unexpected, the familial and – yes – the sound of a good time. Beat that.
Sounds like Holy Fuck