Pulled Apart By Horses are dangerously seductive. Combining the potency of every incredible pop song ever made with deliriously heavy grunge-grumbling guitars, hysterical wailings and a devastatingly pounding rhythm section, they are emphatically impossible not to love.
Offstage, front man Tom writhes and jerks himself amongst the audience - a possession of unrestrained delirium, matched by vigorous, thrashing and at times, jovial, vocals. Melodies grind, bounce, roar and trickle majestically against each other, whilst drums are pounded fierce and explosively.
Set finale, ‘Meat Balloon’, with it’s sublimely addictive chant of ‘We are so macho!’, is a prime demonstration of the bands dexterity for insanely catchy hooks coupled with exquisitely beastly guitar riffs. Perfect.
Grammatics’, however, have a delicate and theatrical sound, the splendour of which is emphasised when songs build into sumptuous walls of sound, juxtaposed with moments of grinding ferocity.
Despite this, a great deal of their sound seems lost, enveloped in it’s own outstanding convolution and as a result parts of the set can be somewhat forgetful and performed with a little less energy than is expected of a band sandwiched between two of such exhausting and spirited power.
Enter the exhausting and the spirited - an eruption of high-paced, torrid, grimy noise known as Rolo Tomassi. It’s all ridiculously intelligent and complex stuff, with jittering indefinite time signatures that jolt about within songs and utterly insane guitar riffs that are perplexingly intricate (the pace with which fingers tap strings and frets is menacing in itself).
Lead singer Eva Spence is truly the sexiest person in existence to produce such an unhallowed growl, as she does. Skipping a serpentine samba about the stage to the disordered sound ruminating from her fellow band mates, she’s dazzling to the point of rapt captivation.
Tracks ‘Macabre Charade’ and ‘Oh Hello Ghost’ demonstrate the bands great ability for ambience, with the slightest glimpses of a pop sensibility that works tremendously and keeps the set fresh, reducing Eva’s voice to an unexpectedly sweet and hushed pitch. Whilst songs ‘Fuck The Pleasantries’ and ‘Film Noir’ are fearsome, body-breaking noise fests which tantalise and terrify.
Courtesy of Rockindustry.co.uk
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