NHC MUSIC - Staying In Reviews - Music / Movies / Books, and Everything Else We Do Indoors!

Courtesans - better safe than sober ep

Sinead la Bella - vocals
Vikki Frances- drums
Saffire Sanchez- guitar
Agnes Jones- bass

Courtesans aren't strangers to Nhc - they graced our shop for an acoustic set and were the stars of our first carnival of the dark arts in 2016. They were early supporters of the Nhc format even though they reside in London so I was more than happy to give their new ep 'better safe than sober' a listen.

We start off with 'mesmerize' - a spellbinding song that's been a staple of their live set recently. Infatuation and losing yourself in another is convincingly put across with Sineads deliver of the haunting lyrics. Slight change of pace with 'feel the same', stripped back in the verses and full on chorus gives this a great dynamic. The half rap/sang feel really suits the song, my favourite track on the ep..

Next up is 'John doe' which is very reminiscent of their debut album '1917's sound and feel, not a bad thing !! A critique on modern living and trying to find your own path, well orchestrated and maybe a nod to their beginnings. 'Knowhere' is the rocker - heavier on guitar and drums. I can see this being a live favourite, both for the fans and the artists. The vocal effect suits the song perfectly.

Last up is 'the tide' - similar in feel to
'Feel the same' but at a faster pace. The little hook in the verse sticks in your head, another great track with plenty variety which showcases the girls' songwriting savvy.

So, 'better safe than sober' is a more refined listen to previous courtesans releases. And that's not to say their back catalogue is lacking in anyway - it just illustrates growth and their constant refining of their signature sound. Well worth a listen.


Main Photo Credit; Photo Mark Bruce www.markbrucephotography.com



Richard Laymon – One Rainy Night

Revisiting some old horror novel favourites has pretty much been what I spent my spare time on this month, as for me, January is best spent in wasted relaxation. Catching up with books from my past is like catching up with old friends.

Violent, bloody, and gore drenched old friends.

Richard Laymon has always been a firm favourite of mines as an author. He isn’t the greatest of writers, and sometimes his violence is often a touch too extreme for my tastes, but as a fan of classic stalk and slash movies his brand of horror does it exactly what it says on the tin for me.

It horrifies. It also keeps you turning the pages as fast as the mind can conjure up the nightmares within each fresh chapter. It's an unstoppable gorefest, sos trap in.

One Rainy Night is a well read, firm favourite of mine, as a black, oily rain turns everyone it touches into murderous, rage filled madmen (and women!). Suddenly those few folk still surviving inside the towns last few safely locked up buildings, need to barricade all the doors and windows and prepare to do battle with those on the outside. We know early doors that most won’t survive the night, but who are the few who will?

It’s not as sleek as some of his other, later works, and the clichéd characters leave a lot to be desired. The misogynistic vibes are also strong through the ongoing story, even for Laymon (I mean come on man, do you have to describe everyone’s nipples all…the…god…damn…time. We get it, you like nipples, move on.), but if you like the sounds of an absolutely blood-spattered mix of Cronenberg’s Shivers and gore soaked Giallo's of old – then this is the book for you.

Be warned though. It isn’t for the faint of heart. Not in the slightest.


Sherlock - Season 4

Now that the dust has settled on the absolute horror show that was season four of Sherlock it is maybe time to cast a rational eye over the last serious without the heat of anger and disappointment clouding a judgement.


Can't do it.

Time is not a great healer in this instance, and a year from now, ten years from now, few will want to offer any defence of what amounted to the greatest detective of all being sacrificed on the alter of ego.

When Gatiss opens his mouth I can see Moffats tongue, and viceversa.
They have stuck them so far up each others arses that they are tickling each others tonsils.
Has there ever been a television drama that has spewed out so much self congratulating bollocks?
The cast were merely there to consummate the relationship between the writers and their own perception of their personal genius.

If we reanimated the corpse of Doyle he would hunt this pair down and slap the word Sherlock out of their mouths.

From a promising debut they have used each series to distance themselves from the source material and make the character their bitch.

A disgusting waste of time for the viewer and the talents of the cast.

Please sir, can I have no more?