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Forget The Night Ahead CD

4.7 out of 5 stars 7 customer reviews

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Frequently bought together

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Product details

  • Audio CD (5 Oct. 2009)
  • Number of Discs: 1
  • Format: CD
  • Label: Fatcat Records
  • Other Editions: Audio CD  |  Vinyl  |  MP3 Download
  • Average Customer Review: 4.7 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (7 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Bestsellers Rank: 98,626 in Music (See Top 100 in Music)
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Track Listings

Disc: 1

  1. Reflection of the Television
  2. I Became a Prostitute
  3. Seven Years of Letters
  4. Made to Disappear
  5. Scissors
  6. The Room
  7. That Birthday Present
  8. Floorboards Under the Bed
  9. Interrupted
  10. The Neighbours Can't Breathe
  11. At the Burnside

Product description

BBC Review

Scottish foursome The Twilight Sad achieved something very unusual in the run-in to the release of their debut album of 2007, Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters: they successfully courted stateside critics and audiences before focusing attentions on domestic matters. Subsequently, rolling over UK bloggers was a simple business for the band, whose brand of powerfully cacophonous drone-rock melds Mogwai dynamics with heartbreaking, rabbit-in-the-headlights vocals.

The formula hasn’t changed for their second long-player – these are some of the loudest ‘pop’ songs you’ll ever hear – but as the adage goes: if it’s not broken, why fix it? While that’ll prompt a degree of scepticism from some corners, repeat plays will allay concerns that quality control’s been compromised in any way – this is amazing stuff, still. Acutely affecting elements – the way the guitars sound as if they’re crying uncontrollably; James Graham’s increased confidence at the microphone; the whole world’s-about-to-end atmosphere of the thing – battle a tide of tumultuous percussion and roaring amplification near enough from start to finish.

The exceptions to the rule are few, acting as steady-yourself breathers around the record’s midway point. Scissors is a blissful instrumental that builds to a crackling climax, stirring the listener without really developing beyond a rattling hum; The Room and Floorboards Under the Bed offer respite from the ear-popping ferocity of the surrounding pieces. The latter track is particularly striking, a stark piano melody puncturing a distant wall of noise – true end-credits music for a forever-haunting slice of cinema yet to be realised.

The album-opening brace of Reflection of the Television and I Became a Prostitute will act as a veritable baptism of fire for anyone unfamiliar with the group’s signature sound. On both, the band’s predilection for eye-watering instrumental aggression bumps heads with their well-honed ear for muscular, stick-in-the-memory melodies; both tear strips off any number of ‘heavy’ acts you’d care to mention, without descending into metal-headed displays of force. If you’re not immediately impressed, you’re probably too bruised to feel anything at all. Rest up and come back.

And then do so again, and again, and again. As while hardly the sound of a commercially savvy act embracing a wider audience, Forget the Night Ahead captures its makers at the peak of their abilities. It’s an album to return to frequently, fresh nuances rising through a fog of dizzying distortion with every listen, and unequivocally one of the best rock records of 2009. --Mike Diver

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Customer Reviews

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Top Customer Reviews

Format: Audio CD
The first few minutes of Forget the Night Ahead; stentorian drumming, rumbling bass and James Graham's world weary vocal, freighted with existential angst, immediately evoke the spectre of albums like Joy Division's Closer and The Cure's Pornography, and those are handy reference points for this similarly uncompromising monolith.

I read recently that Graham sees his lyrics as occupying a folk tradition of storytelling, but like Interpol's Paul Banks or the National's Matt Berninger, his writing is literary while being tantalisingly oblique, yet unquestionably dark. Forget... is full of allusions to transgressions and the guilt that accompanies them, but the exact nature of those traumas is left to the listener's imagination. To me, this is an almost overpoweringly bleak record, but then maybe I'm just projecting. In a sense, Graham only gives you the rope, and it's up to you if you hang yourself. Whatever, he's still a fantastically evocative writer, and a tremendously compelling singer if you don't object to his thick Scottish brogue (which I don't).

The other unquestionable star here is Andy MacFarlane's guitar, from which he squeezes a bewildering sonic spectrum; a guitar hasn't sounded as much like a chill wind as it does on Seven Years of Letters, or a roaring inferno as it does during the crescendo of At the Burnside, since Kevin Shields last committed his genius to disc. He's also capable of matching Graham's confrontational intensity every inch of the way, creating a ear-bleeding din that's enough to send you scurrying for cover.

As you can probably gather, a feel good album this ain't, but I'll leave the last word of caution to Graham himself: "If you're looking for a record with a lot of hope and happy songs then f**k off". Indeed.
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Format: Audio CD
This album was the first I'd heard of The Twilight Sad. They are the supporting act for Biffy Clyro next month when I am seeing them, so I decided to do some research into them. It turns out that this was a very wise decision, for this is definitely an album worth purchasing.

The Twilight Sad would be classed as Alternative Rock, but that is a very bland term which would mislead most people looking into their music. This is indeed an Alternative album, but it isn't for those looking for upbeat indie or summer anthems. As the band's name, and the album title suggests, this isn't happy music. But it is great music.

The band create an array of loud guitar soundscapes that swirl heavily throughout the album; no more so than in the opening track, 'Reflection Of The Television', where the listener is introduced to the first of a vast array of guitar sounds which kicks in in a heavy and disturbing fashion as the singer croons "there's people downstairs". Ably assisted by an unforgiving drumbeat, this instrumental section is a perfect introduction to an album which is crammed full of deep and unnerving sounds- but it is to the band's tribute that these sounds come across in an appealing and almost calming way. It is quite bizarre, at times.

Perhaps the most identifiable with song to fans of the mainstream is 'I Became A Prostitute', an upbeat track with a well defined chorus and a dominating rhythmic guitar lead. It verges on anthemic during the chorus; "You could have had it all, is that what you said?" does it's best to get the listener singing along.

However, despite the occasional inference to the mainstream, one of the ways in which this album does its best to fend off the ordinary is through its dark yet curious lyrics.
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Format: Audio CD
Bands that really make an impression on me don't come along that often these days, but when one hits me, it hits hard. This is another album which is badly missed from my Top 10 of 2009! This Scottish band is new to me. The name is a bit poor really, but the artwork is absolutely great. So how then to describe their sound? It's a raging wall of guitars, in the vein of My Bloody Valentine, Jesus and Mary Chain or a noisy National fronted by a singer with a strong Scottish accent (I'm hesitant to say Arab Strap because it's a little obvious), which is something of an acquired taste. They've been dubbed as shoegaze (or `nu'gaze!). But the songs are very strong, with nagging insistent refrains that bury themselves in your brain.

The opening track, Reflection of the Television is a perfect case in point. It sounds unremarkable at first, with a somewhat dull drumbeat but after a few listens it lodges itself in your head, thanks in no small measure to the wonderful noisy guitars which bleed into this track towards the end. The following track, I Became a Prostitute, is even better. It's a little more uptempo, and the lyrics contain phrases `she's bawling her eyes out' before exploding into the chorus.

And that's just the first 2 tracks. The rest of the album doesn't disappoint. Sure they wouldn't sound like this without listening to My Bloody Valentine, but who cares when the songs are this good? They do seriously noisy soaring choruses (Made to Disappear, The Neighbours Can't Breathe), weird, scratchy instrumentals (Scissors), piano-led heavy pop (The Room) and rampaging rackets (That Birthday Present).

In other words, it's bloody brilliant. Get it, listen to it, obsess over it.
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