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The Last Clouds

The Last Clouds epitaphed society in their debut LP, Illuminism

The Last Clouds

After a string of emotionally wrenching singles, The Last Clouds’ first album, Illuminism, has finally arrived. Bringing with it proclamative liberation from the idea that alienation makes you an outlier in 2023.

Short of being prescribed a trip to the seaside with a bottle of laudanum. I couldn’t think of a better way to find sanctity as our era is epitomised by the descent of truth, meaning, refuge, and connection.

With poetically forlorn lyrics that push the chill of modernity through light and dark malleable elements to reflect our increasingly arduous associations with our disunited society, the LP kicks off to a phenomenal start with track 1, Becoming.

Track 2, Origin, is instrumentally reminiscent of the latest LP offering from Editors. While Matt Schott endeavours with his harbingering vocal lines that effortlessly gel with the turbulently distorted bass around the scintillatingly futuristic synths.

Track 3, Empty Room, starts with a cinematically cavernous ambience to set a tone of Lynchian isolation before the interstellar lyricism drifts across the detachment-reflective instrumentals that are pushed far enough back in the mix to conceptualise the titular allusion.

Track 4, Earth’s Light, starts with an arcane neo-classic electronica score before bursting into a fervid outpour of future pop; the ardent backbeat rails through the reverb as the vocals and lyrics run through in a similar visceral vain to Nova by VNV Nation.

In the same way War of the Worlds is an apocalyptic narration of the end of the world, track 5, Turnpike, chronicles the uncertainty that perturbs even the most resilient minds as we anticipate the future after the everyday disasters we have numbed ourselves to through over-exposure.

Track 6, Another Way to Fall, is a ruminative masterpiece. Rich with romanticism and abjection in equal measure. Definitively proving that few things are true in this world without bitter-sweet duality.

The previously released single, Damage, is by far one of the most poetic accounts of the repercussions of living in a post-truth era I will probably ever hear. The Covenant-ESQUE synths give way to an exposition of how far the mainstream media is willing to let us sink under divisive propaganda.

The concluding single, Fog of Lies, is another sonically disassociated depiction of where we collectively lie in a society that is as glitchy as the artfully jarring orchestration. It’s the perfect continuation from Damage, which will undoubtedly be the most poignant aural memento of how we came to disaffectedly be.

Considering that protests are now effectively banned, this is as close was we are going to get to objection. The fear-encompassing LP is a boldly vulnerable dissent against the forces that are working together in perfect design to welcome us to our worse than Orwellian future. For your own sake, get your resonance fill from it.

Illuminism will officially release on January 20th. Hear it on all major platforms via this link.

Follow The Last Clouds on Facebook.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

The Last Clouds take you to the sonic depths of dejection with their ethereal indie electronica track, Black Hole Lives.

With an intro that mashes The National-style tender piano keys with glitchy caustic electronica, the sense of duality starts resonating early in The Last Clouds’ latest single, Black Hole Lives.

There is an overarching sense of inescapable despair while the restive drum patterns epitomise our refusal to sit restless with ennui. Resonate with it, and you will find yourself consumed by the monochromatic tones, poetic lyrics and psychologically reflective rhythms as you’re taken to the sonic depths of dejection. I mean, do you really have anywhere better to go?

As the single progresses, the reverb that took the sting out of the naturally intimate, Paul Banks reminiscent vocals in the intro starts to slip away, allowing the emotion to ebb and flow with the crescendos, saving the most visceral for last.

I don’t make Paul Banks comparisons lightly, but if any new single is going to leave you an emotional wreck, it is Black Hole Lives and I can personally vouch for The Last Clouds when I say they pour plenty more into their live performances than Interpol.

Black Holes Lives is the second release from the Cheshire-based synth duo’s upcoming album, English Melancholy. The single was officially released on September 17th; you can check it out via Spotify.

Review by Amelia Vandergast

LIVE REVIEW: A histrionic evening with Mercury Machine

The Deaf Institute became a welcome sanctum away from the culture-blind chaos that spilt from most venues on bank holiday Saturday in Manchester with the sublimely curated line-up featuring The Last Clouds, Woman You Stole and Mercury Machine.

The Last Clouds kicked off proceedings with their confessional lyrics, imploring vocals and dark indie electronica stylings that will be familiar with any fans of Covenant, VNV Nation and Apoptygma Berzerk. If any artist can prove there is an intrinsic beauty in vulnerability, it is the Last Clouds. Their recently released single, How to Get Up From This, was all it took to allow my curiosity to transpire into fanatic adoration. The theatrical atmosphere of the single wouldn’t be out of place on the end credits of an apocalyptic blockbuster. Yet, it was the heart-wrenching lyrics, “I tried to speak but it is hard because nobody cares/ I’ll tear the books from my shelf just to lie in the words of somebody else”, that cemented a place on my radar for the criminally underrated act.

If anything can spice up a line-up, it is the je ne sais quoi of Woman You Stole. They set themselves apart by an avant-garde mile with their lively debonair set that easily commanded the crowd into feeling what was orchestrating between them – even if it was fascinatingly unpredictable from one progression to the next.

Their capriciously experimental style is arresting on record, seeing it first-hand is something else entirely. Describing Woman You Stole as entrancing may sound hyperbolic but their sophisticated originality that emanates from their authenticity and mind-blowing talent, rather than through diehard determination to find obscurity, is something everyone should make an effort to witness at least once.

It almost seems needless to rave about Mercury Machine; the band that falls outside of the Manchester post-punk assimilative trap and find themselves in far darker territory, one that made me pretty nostalgic about the soundtrack to Cradle of Fear. The Manchester-based dark indie electronica five piece’s set instantly made it obvious why most of the room were sporting their t-shirts and why why so much hype has amassed around them since the release of their critically-acclaimed debut album in 2019.

Their lyrics are too efficacious in allowing you to explore the fucked up avenues of the human psyche while the pace of frenetic rhythms allow you to find euphoria through defiantly dancing to depictions of our mental precariousness. I couldn’t have asked for a better hit of post-lockdown catharsis.

Bands should always be judged by how much they move you emotionally and how much they can make you move; as Mercury Machine got the first post-lockdown dance from me, I can’t give them much higher praise than that.
Their inhibition-stripping histrionic sound still finds space, occasionally, for Marr-style guitars that add even more energy to their caustic industrial sound could fill stadiums. If goths felt more inclined to leave their bedrooms, that is.

Review by Amelia Vandergast