Album review: Bayonets: 'Wishes and Wishes'

BAYONETS: 'Wishes and Wishes' (Walnut Tree Records)

Not to be confused with the ageing aggro-punks of the same name, Hereford's Bayonets are a decidedly curious bunch. On the face of it, they appear to be another identikit emo-tinged outfit; one look at 'Wishes and Wishes'' inlay, with its black and white, melancholic images of the too-skinny, too-attractive-it-hurts band members, and ludicrously lengthy, self-absorbed track titles ('We Wish These Snakes Were Your Arms', anyone? 'Ten More Sleeps Until A Good Night's Sleep'?), and you've written them off as Hawthorne Heights wannabes or, worse still, Cute is What We Aim For. Thankfully, nothing could be further from the truth; while this is far from pop city, the land of the happy, chirpy and feel-good, 'Wishes and Wishes' is so much more sophisticated than your average alternative release, sounding rather like contemporary Brand New. The eight tracks on this record piss all over just about everything put out by, say, the Decaydance label, managing to capture a whirlwind of emotional torment without lapsing into cliche or musical monotony.

The key to the LP's success is its unpredictable arrangement. The essential elements remain the same throughout - Thom Craig seems to whimper, as if scared of the power of his vocals, Mark Gibbs' guitar solos lilt and sway, carrying the songs along on the crest of a monumentally intense wave ('Ten More Sleeps' succeeds thanks to its beautiful riff) and Joe Francis's drums crash around your ears, puncturing any tenderness that may have been created. However, Bayonets make a concerted effort to disrupt the natural ebb and flow of their songs; for all the album relies heavily on the traditional 'quiet/loud/quiet/loud' formula in order to create its particular brand of melancholia, it also takes unpredictable detours, often into somewhat less accessible, listener-friendly territory. 'We Wish These Snakes...' begins as a fairly standard slow, yet heavy, burner, before removing the guitars altogether. Thom is left alone to sing 'fuck you' in possibly the quietest, most tender fashion ever, and it's fucking terrifying. Hearing the words devoid of their aggression creates an air of unease, leaving you unsure as to quite how to take the track.

Elsewhere, the converse is true: 'Trample-City, J-Heat and Snowdays' becomes one gargantuan headfuck when, halfway through, it completely abandons its melody and spends a minute and a half swamped in a quagmire of cascading guitars. 'Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down' goes one step further and abandons the concept of playing altogether with a mid-section entirely composed of feedback. The song itself seems to literally collapse around you, the musical equivalent of a nervous breakdown. And let's not even get started on the bonus track's backing vocals that consist entirely of the kind of blood-curdling screams you'll have been likely to hear coming from Fred West's bedroom...

Occasionally, 'Wishes and Wishes' runs the risk of becoming too despondent for its own good. This is certainly no easy listen; there are no memorable hooks or life-affirming allegories to be found in its canvas of torment and suffering. However, there's no denying the considerable power of the band's music. With a fairly simple set-up, Bayonets have managed to create something unquestionably evocative. 'Wishes and Wishes' is a record that refuses to settle down, unloading its twisted, damaged psyche onto its listeners with the greatest of aplomb. For a debut, this is one hell of an achievement, and one that will not quickly be forgotten. (8.5/10)