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May 10, 2016 Issue # 57 - M83 By Marty Hill

In the infancy of 2014, Eagulls arose from Leeds, England’s thriving scene and set to causing havoc with their self-titled debut. The record was visceral and confrontational—its videos were host to footage of a rotting pig’s brain and grisly close-ups of eye surgery, and their supporting tour was untamed and dangerous. Eagulls made an indigenous racket.

On their second record, Eagulls invert their consciousness and begin to reflect, adopting a more cinematic and ethereal sonic identity to match. “Is our future grey as the slabs on our drive?” asks frontman George Mitchell atop the bleak charm of “Psalms.” Ullages asks questions where the self-titled album would have mercilessly attacked. Awash with chiming, harmonious layers of guitars that melt into one another carelessly, it’s a record that takes the time to grow into itself but doesn’t lose its Northern scowl.

Lead single “Lemontrees” would seem too tame to be the most rampant cut, but the accelerated post-punk dynamics of old aren’t missed. The elongated reverb-heavy chords employed instead hiss and purr synchronously, flickering between scarring, bleak drones and lengthy sections of optimistic flutters; few bands have let light into their sound to such arresting effect. There’s still talk of severed heads and vomit, but Eagulls have found beauty in the bleakness on their second outing, and crafted a record that spans an emotional spectrum much wider than ever before. It’s a stunning leap forward. (www.eagulls.co.uk/eagulls)

Author rating: 8/10