Quiet Marauder - Monolith Cocktail



Quiet Marauder  ‘Every Time We Think Of One Another feat. Francesca’s Word Salad’  (Bubblewrap Records)  Released 13th October 2014. 

Just one of a Bonzo-inspired 111 track behemoth, released earlier this year, Wale’s heroes of dada pop the Quiet Marauder are releasing a triumvirate of singles from their ‘crisis of identity’ satirical defensive, MEN LP. The trio of whimsical, sometimes plaintively sorrowful, singles will be released so: ‘Pretty Girls Are (Pretty)’ on the 15th September; ‘Every Time We Think Of One Another (A Petal Falls From The Flowers On Our Grave)’ in time for the ghoulish festivities of Halloween; and ‘SOS’ on the 10th November.

Morbidly curious, this ghostly Vivian Stanshall visitation quivered Doo Wop ‘exclusive track’ – granted to us no doubt for our gushing support – features a vocal accompaniment from the macabre Cardiff songstress, Francesca Dimech. A western twanged – and pranged – balled from a graveside that whips up the haunted spectre of a vaudeville Move and the mischievous Gothic rock’n’roll of the Leader Of The Sect era Downliners, this cemetery tale of entwined love in the afterlife is surprisingly heart-achingly quant: ‘When we die, we do live on/But it’s fuzzy, and it’s blurred/And you and I, are buried six feet down/In a graveyard, two rows apart.’ Warms even the most cold-blooded of hearts that one.

In case that doesn’t encourage your patronage and charity, than this LP review reminder will give you a nudge in the right direction:

‘Cast your aural memory back to the 11th October 2013, when the Monolith hosted the ‘Gummo’ inspired, ‘I Want A Moustache, Dammit!’, curio from the Welsh Quiet Marauder troupe.

Tickling our fancies then, they now threaten us with a 111-track oeuvre; a weighty satirical manifesto, a sketch show of earnest rebukes that just keeps giving. Sparks without the pizzazz, the group’s deadpan, often vaudeville modernist intonation is self-deprecating in audacity, yet at its heart beats the leitmotif of masculinity.

So not a clarion call to arms but an ironic lament to inadequacy, the soon to be released opus,Men mocks via a cast of oddballs, perverts and shy, soft-handed male characters the deficiencies and rituals of past, present and modern courtship. Those predatory thoughts and chat-up lines, best kept inside your own dome, are discussed on the Bonzo-esque, ‘Internal Monologue Date’, via a deadpan conversation, whilst ‘Pretty Girls Are (Pretty)’ is a mooningVivian Stanshall discussion between two unhinged acquaintances on public transport – a hotspot to pick up women. It gets sillier and more deranged, as our brethren of clueless fellas evoke Victoriana style serenades on the sex-pest, white gloved slobbering, themed, ‘It Wasn’t Me, It Was The Moon’. They even stoop to the level of employing a ‘co-pilot’ in the shape of a cute dog and ‘a bubbly guy who’s gay’, as a failsafe shoehorn into the ladies affections. Sexual predilections are numerous too, one of the most lighthearted if bizarre is the Toreador’s love for his prey on ‘Sad Spanish Eyes, Rodrigo’; a touching tale of man falls for bull.

As with the previous QM featured track, the ‘alpha male model’ is tackled throughout this album. Varying between quite poignant under-riding lament and lampoon. A ridiculous incanted list of the British prime ministers, is made even more silly by the hovering presence of a ghoulish imp and a Eno-esque spooky soundscape on the vignette, ‘Prime Ministers (1952 – Present)’; reducing them to their unsettling but almost irrelevant status as power-hungry dickheads. ‘If We Were Playas’ is another suitable ‘piss-take’ that sounds like the bastard child of Cliff Richard and The Chefs, and offers a dandyish opine on matching up to the paragons of machismo.

Quite the collaborative effort, prized guests feature everywhere. One of the most startling contributions and a tune that stands out from the witty rhetoric, is the soft-lilting, dry-ice synthesiser balled, ‘Caged’. Lost in a parodied misty smog of 80s neon-tubed remorse, it features the voguish siren Gothic swoons of Jemma Roper; a duet of sorts that actually manage to almost sound convincingly emotive.

Released in their native homeland next month (November) but held-back from the marauding hoards of English till January 2013, those seeking a sneak peak will find solace here.’





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