My Disco : Little Joy

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My Disco : Little Joy


Contemporary public discourse is plagued by a gratuitous sense of control: only designated persons are permitted to convey a message publicly

Contemporary public discourse is plagued by a gratuitous sense of control: only designated persons are permitted to convey a message publicly, and the message is all-too often constructed and promulgated in a manner designed to achieve maximum discursive effect, and minimum criticism. Proponents of the practice claim it promotes discipline; opponents deride the triumph of bland singularity over intriguing plurality.

But control and discipline and control are not synonymous. Control denies creativity; discipline can, and should, live in concert with experimentation and exploration. My Disco understand the difference between discipline and control: the band’s ability to maintain focus verges on freaky; their ability to suspend obvious structure provides the foundation for a creative streak that’s as powerful as it is subtle.
As with so much of the My Disco canon, Little Joy starts with a basic ingredient, this time courtesy of Ben Andrews’ jarring guitar lick in Closer. Moments later Rohan Rebeiro’s drums rumble into action, overlaid with Liam Andrews’ atonal vocals. It’s an entree for what’s to come: Young is nothing short of epic, underpinned by Rebeiro’s enchanting drumming that builds to a crescendo, drawing the listener into My Disco’s beat-laden cave like a child wandering after a 12th century renegade with a funny sounding wind instrument. The intensity doesn’t let up in Turn; flashes of Stone Roses-psychedelia wrestle with rampaging jungle beats, and all is good with the world.
On Sun Bear tempo gives way to space; like John Cage conducting The Dirty Three, My Disco know the power of silence. Sunray gazes off into the distant aural world for enlightenment and finds it in spades; Lil’ Joy is enigmatic and intense, a trip back to The Velvet Underground’s drug-freaked Factory beginnings. With Age is a sombre walk down the corridor lined with the images of decadence and human imperfection; on Rivers the fascinating jungle rhythms return, as Liam Andrews’ vocals construct a distorted reality akin to Jim Jones’ fucked up, paranoid existence.
A Turreted Berg ends the album in style – a distinctly My Disco style, that is, where superficial predictability disguises an edge that’s as invigorating as it is insidious.
My Disco are a complex beast that’s genuinely difficult to comprehend. Here are a band that are pushing the structures of convention into creative shapes no average band could ever comprehend. My Disco are in control.

Little Joy by My Disco is out NOW through Shock Records