Blinded By The Smell is out now as one half of In The Court of The Baby Kyng via Little L Records.
Dublin alt rock quartet That Snaake are one of those bands that have thought about things so much that they’ve pretty much given up on humanity. Kind of like a rock ‘n’ roll version of (the) Melvins or a less fuzzy Mudhoney. Who can blame them? The whole thing is a complete shambles at this stage. At least they’ve given us some good tunes that we can listen to while the ship is going down.
Prawo Jazdy, guitarist and lyricist with the group, was good enough to tell us all about their Blinded By The Smell EP. Things took a turn for the strange. Which is good.
Blinded By The Smell
1. Blinded By The Smell is the sophomore EP by That Snaake, it also features as the final half of In The Court of The Baby Kyng, our lovely cassette out via the lovely Little L Records.
2. If the tone of the piece is too self-congratulatory for your taste, bare in mind I am the type person who regularly buys their own trophies and refers to football teams as “we”.
Blinded By The Smell deals with 3 stories of characters losing faith (in God, Music and Violence respectively).
1. New Stigmata (I Will Eat Your Soul and Not Gain Any Weight)
God is created in (hu)man’s image, therefore every person has the ability to create either a benevolent or evil God.
Blinded By The Smell is the closest the closest thing to a classic style rock record that I think we’ll ever do. It’s a very uncool genre these days (largely due to the quality of bands performing in the style currently), and that’s always appealing to us. The intro to this is a bit of a ham-fisted satire of a stadium rock tune. Stadium status are usually the death of vitality in a band which fits the theme of the song-cycle- plus I kinda dug the idea of a having a really over the top build up to a decidedly wiry pop song,
It came out of a groovy bass thing that Dave is so effortlessly good at pulling out of his arse at 30 seconds notice. I was reading The Three Stigmata of Palmer Elderich by Philip K Dick and I’d gotten mildly obsessed with the idea of transubstantiation around time of writing. It works around the idea of how the shape of God is created in the minds of humans (or in their own image, to use the vernacular of bygone times) and tells a little story about someone creating an evil God out of their own sheer stupidity.
2. Scofflaw // Sisyphus (+1 = The Sum of All My Friends)
The industrialisation of the national music scene has been an objective failure.
I came up in a DIY music “scene” which, like all transitory things of this nature, evaporated. Everything was always done just for the sake of doing something that was more fun and interesting than what was on offer. But in the last few years the music scene in this country has changed a lot. In some ways for the better. In some ways completely pointlessly. The focus is a lot more on being professional and career oriented. Which would make sense if more than a handful of people were making any money off of music. Most of the DIY spaces are now gone, including the squat we did our first EP launch. But now we’ve got degree-level rock schools producing more neo-soul bands than any non-fascist society should have, a very incestuous government sponsored showcase that might give you a motel room at SXSW if you play your cards right, and endless articles about how great the scene is and how sad it is that we’re all broke.
It fits with the pure notion that Ireland is this creative hub with its finger on the pulse – whereas, in terms of the wider world it’s just entry-level hipsters having a circle-jerk on the edge of a continent that may start charging rent any moment.
Keep the recovery going, innit.
Lyrically there’s about a thousand increasingly obscure in-jokes that amass to paint a picture of being stuck in a concentration camp eating Damien Rice’s bloated body while Jumbo Breakfast Roll blares over a tannoy. Musically, it’s closest to what we try to do at live shows, pummel you with riffs until you feel unwell and have to call your mammy for a hug.
3. Sabrina The Teenage Snitch (It’s Just Your Life Please Let It Go)
An inquisition into the purity of violence.
This is a dense story told through a couple of small scenes. A shit wedding, a shit funeral and an unforgivable act of violence. Over-explanation is the death of all interest so I’ll just say it’s an inquisition into the feeling of purity that is attached to violence. I’m a non-violent person who doesn’t believe in an afterlife, so it’s hard to believe that the universe re-corrects itself when people do irreparably bad things. It’s a way-too-sober stoner/slacker style tune about wanting to create a hell on earth and bury someone’s wretched, decrepit and sickly old body in it on behalf of humanity.
This has always been one of our live favourites has been our set closer for a while. Sherry, who produced the EP, did a beautiful job recreating that vibe here. Dónal’s drums in the breakdown are fucking gorgeous to tinnitus-ridden ears. The band just tries to groove in together like one organism. Slowly breathing, growing and then craning up to spit some unrequited bile all over the floor.
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