. In this room, however, reality starts to impinge upon the dream, the mechanics of day-to-day material living are starting to ‘cough’ and splutter, causing noise when they’re trying to be ‘so quiet’, but sometimes noise is what wakes you up from your stupor. In the background ‘country music is playing soft’, the music of middle America gently humming away, but it’s not bad enough to turn off, so they just sit there listening and accept their predicament; in denial, everything is breaking down, even the spell of altered consciousness that they entered into in order to escape is close to falling apart.
With a smattering of exceptions most of my favourite music coming out of Glasgow these days is hip-hop, so it’s nice to have a proper band (with instruments and everything!) come along and represent the rock scene, and represent it they do, and very well! Psychedelic rocking pop, or psychedelic popping rock, as The Big Nowhere start us off with ‘When You Call My Name’ and then we dip down into the muddy waters of the blues for ‘At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul’. I can already imagine this band sounding fucking great live and on stage! Lots of instruments making cameo appearances, keyboards, and I’m pretty sure I heard trumpets earlier as well!
The last track is arguably my fave on the record, I can’t get it out of my head, a mix of amazing soul samples keeping it old school hip hop with an updated oompth. Sage’s lines in this are flawless, and B bounces off him to reciprocate the high-level rapping skill with dexterity. Auris vermis level: 10
‘Stay’ fades in slowly so you’re almost not sure if you heard those first few opening notes, but it builds and unfolds evenly as the song progresses. Again I have to note how impressed I am by the understate nature of these tracks, they just flow seamlessly from one to another throughout the EP and yet each track has its own little thing to say and do.
Opener 2:32am introduces the theme of insomnia, referenced in the title. It begins with static, and the repeating tones and strange countdown of a numbers station, creating a feeling of paranoia, solitude and trepidation. The first beat blasts in over the samples with the assault of first-wave dubstep or lo-fi, underground trap, Meraki’s flow a devastating barrage of triplets, sometimes nasal and imperious, sometimes breathless and anxiety-ridden: “Welcome to the shit show, my life.”