The Telescopes – Static Charge

Tapete

There seems to be yet more light leaking into Stephen Lawrie‘s The Telescopes these days, and with their seventh LP on Tapete, these seven tracks — although fairly dark of title and torpid of beat — allow flashes of sky and dust-flecked vistas into the mix.

There is still something melancholic about the chord structures on Static Charge, but Stephen’s voice feels clearer and the forceful beats are immovable. On opener “White Noise”, the guitar has a distant twang but is weighted down, while the words appear surfing on the wave of a faraway dust storm that threatens ominously in the background. The shattered-glass guitar break is a brief blast; a reminder of how things were and could be again.

Although the vocals have a mantra-like repetitive nature, they appear the most open to date with a clearer sound that allows the sentiments to reveal themselves easier; and the guitars are still heavy, but with much more space. The tempo does change from time to time and the squiggles of electrocuted guitar on “I Dream Of Fever” break the mood and force a refocus, but his understanding of the delicious appeal of repetition allows the whole to worm its way under the skin.

The simplicity is so effective and these vocals really suit the insistent guitar sound, and with the double-tracked harmony vocals you can’t help thinking that Stephen is in a more accessible place, the widescreen reverbed guitar of “Revolutionary Blues” only adding to the impression. The vocals are still shaded but striving for the light. The background synth drone is what plays with your mind while the guitar becomes a sparse thread picking its way across the bass throb and sparse beat.

The songs still retain The Telescopes’ aesthetic and are still so effective, considering the lack of urgency; but it is the resolution that makes it work. You feel Stephen’s belief in every stitch of the sound and these variations on the recognised formula are still compelling as subtle, little textures draw attention and differentiate from track to track; and the odd emotional outburst, be it vocally or guitar-based, can send a shockwave through the listener and break the reverie.

The album ends with the long-form “Desolation Grows”; and over ten minutes that is exactly what happens. Atmospheric wash, a lack of beats, the odd chime of guitar allows for a deliberate unveiling, the voice replete with despair; the sun does gradually rise, but over what is open to interpretation. Distant toms begin a patient, gripping build but the drone underpins it all, its constant presence like a warning of something to come.

The constant evaluation and reworking of The Telescopes’ sound is what keeps them relevant and yet oddly existing outside time. Nobody really sounds like them and hasn’t done for years; and for all the flow of ’80s and ’90s bands reforming and reiterating, The Telescopes continue on their outward trajectory, still searching and rewardingly still discovering.

-Mr Olivetti-