In Towers And Clouds

Dismiss The Immediate as guitar-pop noiseniks at your peril. More eclectic than even an above-average radio show, the Dublin quartet have a veritable orchestra's worth of talent at their disposal, which goes some way towards explaining their versatility. These multi-talented musicians can all sing, while three of the four can drum, and a similar majority play guitar and bass. So just when you think you have them pegged as Magic Numbers-esque ‘60s revivalists with a bit of a modern edge, they morph over the course of three minutes into a sabre-toothed rock beast capable of eating your children and having indecent carnal knowledge of (or should that be with?) your pets.
‘Fashion Or Faith’ alone warps from an eminently hummable slice of melodic pop to a punky, shouty chorus without so much as a by-your-leave, kind of like The Dandy Warhols turning into Bloc Party mid-song. That said, the quartet are brimming over with so many ideas, it must be almost impossible to contain them within the confines of a single album: try the psychedelic fairground punk of ‘Can’t Stop Moving’ on for size if you don’t believe me.
In Towers And Clouds is one of those albums that takes a bit of work to really get into, but any music lover knows that these are usually the albums that last the longest, become the most cherished and still cast a spell over the listener years after we first fell in love with them.
The album opener ‘Aspects’ begins with some mellifluous guitar music, which quickly mutates into an altogether scratchier, fuzzier creature that clings limpet-like to your vitals like a Furby with teeth. The stop-start staccato of ‘Lonely, Locked Up’ sees the quartet baring said gnashers for a stompingly energetic wig-out, while the recent single ‘Don’t You Ever’ is arguably the tensest, tautest and most manic release by an Irish band since Whipping Boy’s gargantuan Submarine.
Other highlights include the bold and beautiful brass interlude on ‘Big Sad Eyes’, the oozing melancholia of the title-track, the harmony-driven chorus on the new seven-inch, ‘Stop And Remember’, and the call-and-response vocals of ‘Let This Light Fill Your Eyes’.
The pick of the bunch though, is the imperial ‘A Ghost In This House’: a deliciously addictive song that sounds at once as simple as a Dr Seuss book and as complex as quantum physics, and comes complete with soaring falsettos, grinding guitar interludes, choirboy harmonies and the most toe-tappingly insistent beat on the album. This song is so exquisitely crafted that it lifts The Immediate head and shoulders above their contemporaries and points to what could be a very interesting future indeed.
The Immediate are young, highly ambitious and extremely talented. Indeed, my only criticism of this rather fine debut is that it could be a little too musically diverse for its own good.