Album: Guilty Hands

“Welcome to the dark, seedy and twisted world of the Guilty Hands…” crows the ominous tagline of the band’s website, as three Matt Bellamy look-alikes stare eerily into the camera. This cliché-busting trio have discovered that synthesisers and black hair dye can win the affections of all those nice young ladies who ‘totally dig’ the 80s, and also makes for some seriously dark musical aesthetics, oui? No.
Whilst listening to ‘Desire on a Short Leash’, Guilty Hands’ debut record, I am overcome with bittersweet teen nostalgia, dreaming of the days when people took Alkaline Trio seriously, because they wrote about graveyards and suicides in a way that spoke to young, well-adjusted people. In those days, gritty riffs and off-key vocals were enough. Now it’s all electronic drums, keyboards, distorted synth basslines, and so on. Kids today don’t know they’re born.
Fortunately, these Guilty Handed folk know how to make maximalism work for them. Undoubtedly a talented and eclectic group of musicians, Gareth Moss’ lead vocals are powerful and compulsively listenable, and he carries even the most bizarre narratives with conviction. At a time when synth-based and sample-based music are saturating the indie-sphere, the trio manage to avoid the 80s throwback pitfalls and use electronics alongside catchy guitars, violins, organs and handclaps. In fact, Guilty Hands make their dark, seedy and twisted world sound like a lot of fun.
At times, I’m not sure how tongue-in-cheek the band’s sleaze-goth brand is supposed to be. The track ‘Reaching for my Razor’ sees Moss repeating, “cut cut, slash slash, you’ve got your razor” against a 90s-trance-meets-Hot-Chip backdrop of dance beats. By the time the lyrics “Cut cut, slash slash” have been repeated three times, I almost wish they’d talk about getting drunk with the lads in Manchester instead.
Whatever their intensions are, however, Guilty Hands are not trying to do profound. In fact, their self-titled track, ‘Guilty Hands’, is a great party anthem dedicated to no-strings sex, and this is when they are at their best. Fast-paced, eclectic and a little bit gaudy, the band tell their bizarre, Dresden Dolls-esque stories with verve. Listen to them at a Halloween Party, listen to them in an abandoned church, listen to them whilst shoe-horning a naughty word into your weekly essay… You get the point.
As gimmicky as the dark stuff may be, it seems like maximalism is the word of the decade. Perhaps it’s time for me to ditch my minimalist mourning garb and embrace the New Year.
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