You’d be forgiven for thinking that ANBAD sometimes wilfully ignores breakthrough bands in exchange for focussing obsessively on the agonisingly obscure ones (and you’d be half right, too).

So while other music blogs scrambled to be first! to cover Cuckoo Chaos a couple of months ago, I have allowed their music to reach my ears in it’s own time – i.e., when I’d finally got around to clearing three months’ backlog of emails.

Still, there are distinct advantages to this approach. As a payoff for being a month and a half late in their discovery – a lifetime in music blogging terms – their music can be heard with fresh, unhurried ears.

I suppose a song that is taken from a forthcoming album named Most Extreme Chill can be absorbed with a pinch of salt, and WWRHD is indeed tongue-in-cheek, irony-laden, and has one eyebrow raised to straining point.

But here is a song that would benefit from a slower pace of discovery: it’s a slow burner disguised as a club-backroom stomper, building its own structures, parameters and grooves, before disassembling it all again in a flurry of artfully chosen spoken-word samples.

Ignoring the PR rush: it’s the future. Also, this allows my tardiness to be excused. Good.

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