Slowly we move through the room of unimaginable horror; worthless old tat besmirches shelving everywhere, objectionable ornaments and cheap holiday memories in the shape of chipped sea-shells affecting the form of the Blackpool Tower lay half buried beneath wrappers of confectionary and clumps of dead hair.
Suddenly, before us, one of the mountains of -waste stirs; unwravelling itself, it is now clear to be a man-shaped humanoid, though baldy of head and rotund of gut… He effects the look of shock though it we suspect he knew we were there all along…
Oh, hello; didn’t hear you come in. Yes, I’m Robert. What call from the neighbours? Well I can assure you, I’m very much alive. Doesn’t explain what smell..?
Anyway, seeing as you’re here, let me tell you about this amazing new band I’ve just had the pleasure of discovering for the first time. They’re called Honduras and…what’s that? No, no, I’m only locking the door and barring the windows to prevent wit- …distractions interrupting me as I tell you about Honduras and their debut EP Morality Cuts…
Jetlagged brings about the bass in a big bad way, a groove filled intention of destruction culminating in a crashing of chords from the guitar. leading us down the road to the laconically sonic vocals. With a drawling confidence they etch their design across the backdrop of sound clean and crisp, almost too bright on the eyes as the ears absorb the inflections and intonations of a band void of any computer aided auralness that has all the alertness and eye opening burst of energy as the first coffee of the day.
Borders brings a more Monkey’s, The Hives feel to the sound, a running bass-line and drums modestly piqued by guitar providing a captivatingly distracting path for the vocals to meander about and throughout upon. Echoes of the man Rotten himself seep through the drawling call of the vocals, a punctuation to underline that ‘..hear; this is what I’m saying’ rather than a jeuvenile sneer of arrogant insight. A small pause to announce they ‘feel like I’m in danger’ before the music snatches you into the shadows and steals you away, a fading bass line marking the space you used to occupy erasing the evidence of your egress.
Unscathed has a Manics, Generation Terrorist feel to it, the guitar standing front and centre with its riffing chops well brushed. Each note eschewing from the frets etches itself into the happy gland with ease, an engagement of ear and musician perfect in its fit. Though coming in at just under the two minute thirty mark there’s a hugeness to the overall song that belies its slender timestamp. Easily a crowd uniter and anthemic chant-along there’s enough to fill the belly without causing nausea and leave enough room for another slice without fear of looking greedy.
Son is more the call-to-arms charge of crowd control than cathartic calming, its frenetic energies much like The Jam or The Clash; chords are strummed with a fervour and chivvy you along at an almost breathless pace, the vocals remonstrations of ‘Son, son, son’ like an out-reached hand of help being snatched from the flailings of its grasping fingers. A sense of passing rather than loss, and shows you don’t need a ballad on a release to show the bands know how to wring hearts.
Ace brings the guitar back to the fore with a terrific intro run that sets you up for the adrenalin rush the rest of the song is about to imbue.Like a punch from a set of knuckles tattooed PUNK Ace is the song you will justify that eighteen speaker home cinema set-up you swore blind was an investment for the future rather than an albatross of forty two far-from-simple monthly payments, the desire to turn the dial past eleven and watch the pretty sparks fly a temptation felt from beginning to end and will probably make you want to test how loud those new headphones go.
And as you wait for your hearing to return with a blissfully happy smile on your face you can pretend the crowd of people flapping their arms and mouthing silent conversations to one another in the world about you are really part of a new reality TV show; one with mimes being the focus and your involvement purely observational and Morality Cuts your own personal playlist.