"Wenn eine Gruppe mit drei ep´s zum bekanntesten
Geheimtip Englands wird, vermutet man natürlich eine hinterhältige
Vermarktungsstrategie. Doch weit gefehlt: The Beta Band hat sich den Ruhm
redlich verdient. Auf The Three EP´s rollen Gitarre, Bass und Schlagzeug
in Kornkreis-Formationen durch groovigen Psycho-Gitarren-Pop. Für
die abwechslungsreichen Arrangements greift das eigentlich akustische
Quartett auch mal auf etwas Elektronik zurück, und auch sonst ist
alles drin, was vier Spinnern halt so einfällt. Englische Exzentrik
in höchster Qualität, wie sie sonst nur Julian Cope produziert.
(Rolling Stone. Formidabel)
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Buzzy Glasgow combo gather their complete works to
date - three highly-collectable limited edition EPs from last year. Seventy-eight
minutes in all.
People dig The Beta Band for several reasons. Among these are: they sound
bonkers; they sound single-mindedly joyful in their pursuit of the wooziest
grooves in the cosmos; they sound like they don't give a flying one. They
remind you of stuff but are also unique. Their packaging's nice too. Thank
God for a band on a major with the guts to plough their own furrow (and
a major label prepared to pay for it, come to that). Highlights? The let's-get-it-on-with-a-tambourine
intimacy of I Know, the lovely monastic Dr Baker, the super-laid-back lope
of idler's manifesto Dry The Rain, the stoned prowl of Push It Out and the
16-minute meander The Monolith. The landscape of their sound is littered
with bongos, lazy acoustic guitar, Jew's harp, bird song, hand claps and
dub bass. Weaving through it all, the multi-tracked, sleepy voice of Steve
Mason. So idiosyncratic and unprocessed is this music that people are moved
to pay £30 for copies of the original EPs. One day you know they'll
lock eyeballs with the times like, say, Pink Floyd did. Right now they're
working up a good groove banging on the gates of dawn. (MOJO) |
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The Beta Band have a habit of stumbling across gold
as they weave their ramshackle way round a tune. While Steve Mason's gruff
singing, resembling the mumbling of a barely conscious man, complements
the unpredictable brew. But in stubbornly avoiding the normal conventions
of songwriting they occasionally veer away from a tune altogether. This
results in epics like Monolith, which clocks in at just under 16 minutes
and sounds like aimless doodling along to BBC sound effects records. However
at their best (and most succinct), as on Dry The Rain and It's Over, their
ability to wrest a tune from the eclectic instruments and percussion is
akin to the best of the sonic invention of Beck. (Q. 3/5) |