INDIAN INK

This is a short EP from a band whose name was longer than their career. Meanwhile, Back in Communist Russia made a minor splash with their dark and artistic debut album ‘My Elixir, My Poison’; unfortunately the band dissolved shortly afterwards. ‘Indian Ink’ predates that full-length album, and features the song (“Morning After Pill”) that attracted the attention of DJ John Peel and earned the band three recording sessions in his studio.

While the music here does qualify as post-rock for the most part, the band has a unique shtick in the form of vocalist Emily Gray, who instead of singing spends her time reciting her poetry in a deadpan and dark spoken-word litany that comes off as a cross between the Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Timmins and Laurie Anderson. You won’t find too many post-rock bands doing that.

Unfortunately the novelty wears thin pretty quickly, and after the third or fourth song there really isn’t anything to hold one’s attention any longer. The band does have the ability to kick things up a notch musically when they feel like it, such as toward the middle of “No Cigar” and (in the form of digital drone) on “Now I am Lifting”. But the programmed drum tracks are dull and the sonic lows outnumber the high points by about four to one, so in the end the overall experience is tepid at best.

The band didn’t last long after this recording, and I can’t say I’m surprised. Ms. Gray has carried on in her quest to be the Emily Dickinson of post-rock with another band known as Ape Has Killed Ape! along with keyboardist Tim Croston, and the remaining members of the group all seem to have landed elsewhere in the music business as well. Best wishes to them in their new endeavors, but as far as this early work goes I can’t see rating it at more than two stars. Sorry.

peace

Oxford's short-lived Meanwhile, Back In Communist Russia were the town's very own home- grown stab at a post-rock band along similar veins to Godspeed You Black Emperor and Mogwai. Meanwhile bring their own unique sound to the table, a bit more electronic and prettified than the usual Mogwai/Godspeed approach, and on top of that you have the mysterious vocals of Emily Grey, who delivers her poetry (mainly focusing on neurotic sexual situations) in a breathless manner which reminds me of some of Jarvis Cocker's mysterious monologues on Pulp albums - except unlike Cocker, Grey never breaks out the Scott Walker crooning.

On the whole, the band achieve a uniquely atmospheric sound which may be a bit twee for some tastes, but on the whole I consider to be one of the great overlooked gems of the post- rock scene.