The more emails that I receive from Eager New Bands, the more I’m convinced that they have all signed up to some sort of vast global conspiracy.
So, don your silver-foil hats and lend me your ear for a second. This conspiracy isn’t one that will bring down governments, but it would explain a lot, given the grubby environs of the new music world.
My suspicions were aroused after hearing the umpteenth consecutive display of low-key, moody, noise-washes from a mysteriously anonymous band.
There seemed to be three realistic interpretations to explain their appearance: that it was all just a big coincidence (and as all conspiracy nuts know, they just don’t happen); that it was all produced by one incredibly prolific, glum guy; or that they had all clubbed together and were promoting their similarly understated music simultaneously.
Little Kid were the best of the bunch, possibly because The Train Behind My House actually manages to incorporate dribbles of lovely positive noise to clutter the gaps between moody introspection.
For a song that begins and ends with ominous clanking and never really shakes off the feeling that doom is only moments away, a surprisingly light and airy feel dominates The Train Behind My House. It’s a slight song, bruised but defiant; dragging itself to its feet for one more round.
Many artists of Little Kids‘ ilk can’t muster the quality songs needed to hurry their songs along, as they’re too busy staring at their navels to look at their instruments. Little Kid is different because he’s recognised the need for soaring peaks amongst the deep troughs in his music.
Just because you’re not paranoid, it doesn’t mean that the gloomy indie musicians aren’t after your deep, world-weary sighs. Little Kid is watching you. And it’s quite comforting, really.