For those of you still a potential stain on the bed-sheets in the mid-nineties there was much to be enjoyed; most of our technology was till only advanced enough to be too pricey for all but the finest of our folk. Mobile phones were no longer the brick-and-suitcase confection of yore, but neither were they much more than a pocket calculator with a walkie-talkie built-in. And yet despite (or because of) this unattainable influence of affluence affected by the people what want your cash the common-oik of us took to the classy section of JB Sports, where the football shirts have names on the back you recognize, and our Lacoste trainers all had that box-fresh allure.
En masse we took our Daz door-step challenged T’s to the fields of furthest Cumbridgeshire, gathered within the big-top confines of a huge-assed tent draped with curtains and vomit, and blind ourselves under laser guided lighting to the sound of car-alarms going nuclear while thrashing wildly about and drenched in the sweat of another man’s beard.
They were intense, sonically penetrating sounds of compulsive rhythm and endless drive, the beat as steady as it was immensely untamed at times; the moment you realised the direction of the track had changed your body instinctively reacting and sending you spinning about the place with a glow-stick and bottle of shops own water.
So hitting Play on the iPod and being sent straight back to the peroxide platinum period of my life I refer to as the reason I went bald at twenty seven was like finding the answer to eternal youth in a playlist.
Sci Curious manages to recreate the nights I lost whilst holding onto glow-sticks for dear life in the middle of some god-forsaken Broadmoor field, completely oblivious to the sounds of digging around me as the thumping bass drove my body into paroxysms of enrapture.
With eleven tracks on the back of the box the album it can be best be described as a uniquely transcendental experience that moves deep through the universe where music meets rock and their illicit progeny is born, written for those appreciative of the reward that is called Sci Conscious.
The Astounding Fact v4 brings a sombre, almost monotone drone of informative spoken word over a restrained soundtrack, the counter-argument of the vocals bringing a hard edge rocker of a song that is very Maiden with the ‘whoa’-ing and galloping drums punctuating an electric sweeping of sonics and synths.
Only Genes Can Judge Me is an awesome adventure into wonderlust, with every instrument the recording studio must have owned turning out and throwing down a solo, a run, a riff or rampaging rhythm to the tune of a million notes a second. Add some swapping between such complete full-on intensity to flat out rock of a more familiar flavour and its incongruousness is certainly mixed and layered so you can’t see the cocktail sticks holding everything together.
The Gospel According To Science then flips everything upside your head and ska-sensory overload sees your sudden deep body bopping motions give you the appearance of someone losing the fight with gravity, one piece of spine at a time. An Arctic Monkeys-esque approach to vocals and stripped down sound begins another onslaught of almost overloaded sci-fi sweeps and soars. Overtones of Queen with a choral ‘Galileo’ adds a nice nod of fine things to come, that, like the thin-mint on the pillow you get in the more up-market of hotel, an unexpected treat,an enjoyment of confection.
Shut Down The Rave throws all of the above together and adds a measure of Welsh-rockers Manics through the layers, full of rhythm and passion they’re a showcase for the vocals, restrained in their anger as they expound their cries, commanding and controlled.
Individually the tracks certainly take you on an expansive auditory journey; collectively and its probably best to book either a few days off work or a field and sell tickets before attempting to embark on the album on a single play-through – with some tracks coming in near the ten minute mark even a single song can take you further down the rabbit hole then having an agoraphobic Thumper stapled to your foot.
It could turn your night out into a night to remember, or your morning after with your head down the toilet. Intense? Yes. But thoroughly rewarding and one of the most complete feeling albums all year.