why oh why were the pale saints so criminally ignored. their three superb albums followed a definite progression from the spiky melodic punk and dreamy shoegazing of 'the comforts of madness' through the developing production values of 'in ribbons' to this their hugely underrated post ian masters swansong. bands like my vitriol would simply not exist if it wasn't for the pale saints. you are constantly made to work and wait for some moments of glorious melodic pop, interspersed amongst angular minor chord work-outs. 'be my angel' is the grown-up version of their first album's thrashy 'language of flowers', meriel barham's voice weaving in and out of a furious driving wall of sound, where ian masters' fragile warble seemed always on the point of cracking. 'fine friend' and 'one blue hill' follow (and wallow) in the same mould as 'featherframe', languid guitars bursting into life and then slowing seductively. like the go-betweens trademark double ll titles, the saints always deliberately finished their albums with a lengthy self-indulgent but totally memorable opus. for the best track on slow buildings: 'suggestion', refer to the earlier works and 'sight of you' and 'a thousand stars burst open'. heartbreaking melodies and a wig-out air guitar climax that leaves you totally satisfied and ready to start it all again. pale saints were absolute class and you should give them a chance. they are still one of my all-time favourite groups.
This is very different from the excellent 'Comforts of Madness' album but no less impressive. If your stick on some headphones and allow this music wash over you the reward is worth it. Tracks 4, 7, 8, 9 stand out as especially engaging. These songs seem me as having encapsulated the sense of patience and anticipation that accompany good foreplay (assuming I know what that is). I do recommend this album but one to luxuriate over alone with no other sensory input to distract you.