Playlouder - Music is the Network

File under progressive, slightly jazzy, post-folk music. If you like filing things. Not my usual cup of chai, but there’s a certain ephemeral beauty to opener ‘Volcano Mono’ that beckons me in: breathy “ah-ah”s, mid-paced snare drums and ambient keys alongside meandering electric guitar. It has “coffee table” and “chillax” written all over it, and while I’m usually looking for more of a burning barn knees-up or bloody sacrifice in a tranquil glade, I defy anyone to refute the proven benefits of a good chillaxing sesh round a nice low coffee table (probably made out of glass), with a cup of lapsang souchong and a bag of chocolate buttons.

Vocal melodies take a backseat throughout to the ever-evolving layers of sound. The music pricks and probes and asks questions of the listener, but soothes as well. One could do yoga to this, or perhaps some slightly more active (but ultimately futile) form of exercise. One couldn’t box to it.

I’m sure there are plenty of post rock bands still alive and well in the UK you know; some of them masquerade as hardcore or post-hardcore (with a little bit of shouting): some of them made the sort of unnatural leap into alt-country as advised by Dave Pajo: some of them collapsed in on themselves and embraced their inner indie kids. Few give a fuck about any of them anymore.

Whether Junkboy seem interesting to me because I wasn’t previously aware of them, or because they simply are more interesting than most, is immaterial. The fact that they owe as many debts to 60s/70s psychedelia and prog as they do to turn-of-the-millennium gloom rock is perhaps what endears them to me, but again that’s not the whole story; there’s a powerful sense of purpose pervading ‘Three’ and were Junkboy in their front room (as seems likely) or in a lush studio filled with knobs and foam, one imagines they’d come up with a similarly haunting sound, and that their artistic vision would remain clear regardless.

The lilting flute (flutes do that don’t they?) on 'Red Firecracker' builds into almost-glitchy folktronica (a term most have an unfair aversion to; it’s just a portmanteau, for fuck’s sake. Don’t be afraid of it!) The rhythmic, cantering, orchestration and shifting emphases of ‘Kamo River’ make for a delectable journey.

Almost the antithesis of folk music – as is the post rock spirit – these songs don’t tell stories, but the quality of writing (as it were) is such that one can’t help but become involved with these fleeting moments. The deeper into it you get, the less you’ll want to resurface.

An unexpected pleasure. Suppose I’d best look up Junkboy ‘One’ and ‘Two’ then.