Future of the Left

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Future Of The Left

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At a Glance

Formed: 2005 (9 years ago)


Biography

On one hand, Future Of The Left are a band much like many other bands are a band. Three men, wielding bits of wood and metal strung with strings and skin, often to be found playing to rooms of other men mildly intoxicated on watery dilutions of strong lager. On the other hand, however, you can take that most basic factual definition and dispose of it by any means deemed socially and legally acceptable by local fly-tipping laws.

Here - this record - is why.

Future Of The Left's second album, Travels With Myself And Another, is the physical representation/digital recording of a band ... Read more

On one hand, Future Of The Left are a band much like many other bands are a band. Three men, wielding bits of wood and metal strung with strings and skin, often to be found playing to rooms of other men mildly intoxicated on watery dilutions of strong lager. On the other hand, however, you can take that most basic factual definition and dispose of it by any means deemed socially and legally acceptable by local fly-tipping laws.

Here - this record - is why.

Future Of The Left's second album, Travels With Myself And Another, is the physical representation/digital recording of a band perfecting what it means to be in a band: the tightest dynamics; the deftest and heaviest guitars; the sharpest wit; the best and most splendid clothes and hair. It is smart, not in the sense of young men cultivating fringes, posing in photographs reading Proust, but in its instinct and ingenuity, elegant fury and lyrical humor.

“Essentially we write pop music, just delivered in a louder, angrier and more angular way than most other 'pop' bands,” says Jack. “Hooks, vocally or musically, are always what we aim for but if there's a great riff with no vocal melody then it's discarded. Instrumental songs are not for us.”

Taking its name from the memoirs of 20th Century war reporter Martha Gellhorn, Travels With Myself And Another was recorded in three concentrated bursts at Monnow Valley studios in Monmouth, with mixing at Faster Studios and Warwick Hall in Cardiff. "Writing began as far away from relaxed as possible," explains Falkous, "but once we got 'Arming Eritrea' and 'Land Of My Formers' the rest was, to quote Hemingway, 'a piece of piss'.”

Just one song, 'Drink Nike', is carried over from the live album 'Last Night I Saved Her From Vampires', - a result of a fastidious culling process. " 'Cloak The Dagger' is something of a live favorite - we always close with it - but on record it sounded a little generic, too ordinary," explains Falkous of the songs lost along the way. "If a song wasn't working for everyone straight away it was discarded mercilessly."

It’s all for the good of the record, though, which takes the firm blueprint laid down on Curses and tweaks it, amends it, expands it, gives it time to percolate and fires it off on odd tangents. You possibly already know lead-off single ‘The Hope That House Built’, a boozy oompah romp that flicks two firm fingers up at Mistress Fate. Elsewhere here, though, there are bizarre and farcical narratives – the prehistoric ‘Yin/Post-Yin’ and ‘Throwing Bricks At Trains’, a tale of not-so-petty vandalism, as conducted by one Reginald J Trottsfield and his upstanding Lieutenant Brown. There are songs about the modern male identity – ‘I Am Civil Service’ and ‘Chin Music’, the latter a reference to the aggressive bowling style of the West Indian fast bowlers of the Seventies and Eighties).

There is brutish heaviness, most neatly encapsulated by ‘You Need Satan More Than He Needs You’, a Future Of The Left T-shirt slogan chiselled into a brutish keyboard-drum groove which deals with the day-to-day concerns of the modern Satanist – “One who still has to worry about babysitting and getting the goat home after a blood ritual on a windswept moor," explains Falkous. And there are strange inventions, like the closing ‘Lapsed Catholics’, which begins as an acoustic/spoken word piece, but in the course of four short minutes, confuses Jacob's Ladder for The Shawshank Redemption, reveals Rupert Murdoch to be Satan incarnate, ponders the notion of an afterlife, and finally, brings the whole edifice tumbling down with guitars that go up like TNT sticks.

And that's it. Twelve songs in a touch under 33 minutes. No faff, no chaff. “We always wanted the album to rest between 33 and 36 minutes,” says Kelson. “Some people may think this to be too short in duration, but my advice would be 'Write your own album, or listen to the Mars Volta'. When writing, our main goal is to always make the newer song better then the previous.

"Some people may think that 33 minutes is too short for a record," says Jack. "These people are wrong."

That's you told.

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

On one hand, Future Of The Left are a band much like many other bands are a band. Three men, wielding bits of wood and metal strung with strings and skin, often to be found playing to rooms of other men mildly intoxicated on watery dilutions of strong lager. On the other hand, however, you can take that most basic factual definition and dispose of it by any means deemed socially and legally acceptable by local fly-tipping laws.

Here - this record - is why.

Future Of The Left's second album, Travels With Myself And Another, is the physical representation/digital recording of a band perfecting what it means to be in a band: the tightest dynamics; the deftest and heaviest guitars; the sharpest wit; the best and most splendid clothes and hair. It is smart, not in the sense of young men cultivating fringes, posing in photographs reading Proust, but in its instinct and ingenuity, elegant fury and lyrical humor.

“Essentially we write pop music, just delivered in a louder, angrier and more angular way than most other 'pop' bands,” says Jack. “Hooks, vocally or musically, are always what we aim for but if there's a great riff with no vocal melody then it's discarded. Instrumental songs are not for us.”

Taking its name from the memoirs of 20th Century war reporter Martha Gellhorn, Travels With Myself And Another was recorded in three concentrated bursts at Monnow Valley studios in Monmouth, with mixing at Faster Studios and Warwick Hall in Cardiff. "Writing began as far away from relaxed as possible," explains Falkous, "but once we got 'Arming Eritrea' and 'Land Of My Formers' the rest was, to quote Hemingway, 'a piece of piss'.”

Just one song, 'Drink Nike', is carried over from the live album 'Last Night I Saved Her From Vampires', - a result of a fastidious culling process. " 'Cloak The Dagger' is something of a live favorite - we always close with it - but on record it sounded a little generic, too ordinary," explains Falkous of the songs lost along the way. "If a song wasn't working for everyone straight away it was discarded mercilessly."

It’s all for the good of the record, though, which takes the firm blueprint laid down on Curses and tweaks it, amends it, expands it, gives it time to percolate and fires it off on odd tangents. You possibly already know lead-off single ‘The Hope That House Built’, a boozy oompah romp that flicks two firm fingers up at Mistress Fate. Elsewhere here, though, there are bizarre and farcical narratives – the prehistoric ‘Yin/Post-Yin’ and ‘Throwing Bricks At Trains’, a tale of not-so-petty vandalism, as conducted by one Reginald J Trottsfield and his upstanding Lieutenant Brown. There are songs about the modern male identity – ‘I Am Civil Service’ and ‘Chin Music’, the latter a reference to the aggressive bowling style of the West Indian fast bowlers of the Seventies and Eighties).

There is brutish heaviness, most neatly encapsulated by ‘You Need Satan More Than He Needs You’, a Future Of The Left T-shirt slogan chiselled into a brutish keyboard-drum groove which deals with the day-to-day concerns of the modern Satanist – “One who still has to worry about babysitting and getting the goat home after a blood ritual on a windswept moor," explains Falkous. And there are strange inventions, like the closing ‘Lapsed Catholics’, which begins as an acoustic/spoken word piece, but in the course of four short minutes, confuses Jacob's Ladder for The Shawshank Redemption, reveals Rupert Murdoch to be Satan incarnate, ponders the notion of an afterlife, and finally, brings the whole edifice tumbling down with guitars that go up like TNT sticks.

And that's it. Twelve songs in a touch under 33 minutes. No faff, no chaff. “We always wanted the album to rest between 33 and 36 minutes,” says Kelson. “Some people may think this to be too short in duration, but my advice would be 'Write your own album, or listen to the Mars Volta'. When writing, our main goal is to always make the newer song better then the previous.

"Some people may think that 33 minutes is too short for a record," says Jack. "These people are wrong."

That's you told.

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

On one hand, Future Of The Left are a band much like many other bands are a band. Three men, wielding bits of wood and metal strung with strings and skin, often to be found playing to rooms of other men mildly intoxicated on watery dilutions of strong lager. On the other hand, however, you can take that most basic factual definition and dispose of it by any means deemed socially and legally acceptable by local fly-tipping laws.

Here - this record - is why.

Future Of The Left's second album, Travels With Myself And Another, is the physical representation/digital recording of a band perfecting what it means to be in a band: the tightest dynamics; the deftest and heaviest guitars; the sharpest wit; the best and most splendid clothes and hair. It is smart, not in the sense of young men cultivating fringes, posing in photographs reading Proust, but in its instinct and ingenuity, elegant fury and lyrical humor.

“Essentially we write pop music, just delivered in a louder, angrier and more angular way than most other 'pop' bands,” says Jack. “Hooks, vocally or musically, are always what we aim for but if there's a great riff with no vocal melody then it's discarded. Instrumental songs are not for us.”

Taking its name from the memoirs of 20th Century war reporter Martha Gellhorn, Travels With Myself And Another was recorded in three concentrated bursts at Monnow Valley studios in Monmouth, with mixing at Faster Studios and Warwick Hall in Cardiff. "Writing began as far away from relaxed as possible," explains Falkous, "but once we got 'Arming Eritrea' and 'Land Of My Formers' the rest was, to quote Hemingway, 'a piece of piss'.”

Just one song, 'Drink Nike', is carried over from the live album 'Last Night I Saved Her From Vampires', - a result of a fastidious culling process. " 'Cloak The Dagger' is something of a live favorite - we always close with it - but on record it sounded a little generic, too ordinary," explains Falkous of the songs lost along the way. "If a song wasn't working for everyone straight away it was discarded mercilessly."

It’s all for the good of the record, though, which takes the firm blueprint laid down on Curses and tweaks it, amends it, expands it, gives it time to percolate and fires it off on odd tangents. You possibly already know lead-off single ‘The Hope That House Built’, a boozy oompah romp that flicks two firm fingers up at Mistress Fate. Elsewhere here, though, there are bizarre and farcical narratives – the prehistoric ‘Yin/Post-Yin’ and ‘Throwing Bricks At Trains’, a tale of not-so-petty vandalism, as conducted by one Reginald J Trottsfield and his upstanding Lieutenant Brown. There are songs about the modern male identity – ‘I Am Civil Service’ and ‘Chin Music’, the latter a reference to the aggressive bowling style of the West Indian fast bowlers of the Seventies and Eighties).

There is brutish heaviness, most neatly encapsulated by ‘You Need Satan More Than He Needs You’, a Future Of The Left T-shirt slogan chiselled into a brutish keyboard-drum groove which deals with the day-to-day concerns of the modern Satanist – “One who still has to worry about babysitting and getting the goat home after a blood ritual on a windswept moor," explains Falkous. And there are strange inventions, like the closing ‘Lapsed Catholics’, which begins as an acoustic/spoken word piece, but in the course of four short minutes, confuses Jacob's Ladder for The Shawshank Redemption, reveals Rupert Murdoch to be Satan incarnate, ponders the notion of an afterlife, and finally, brings the whole edifice tumbling down with guitars that go up like TNT sticks.

And that's it. Twelve songs in a touch under 33 minutes. No faff, no chaff. “We always wanted the album to rest between 33 and 36 minutes,” says Kelson. “Some people may think this to be too short in duration, but my advice would be 'Write your own album, or listen to the Mars Volta'. When writing, our main goal is to always make the newer song better then the previous.

"Some people may think that 33 minutes is too short for a record," says Jack. "These people are wrong."

That's you told.

This biography was provided by the artist or their representative.

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