Plastelin - Online magazine reviews Paper Wraps Rock

The ocean that is 80s nostalgia means many different things to different people. Some recall a time of leisure, some hedonism, some mistake the turquoise of water for the green of royalties. People are prepared to enter in in many different ways. And those that seem to always succeed are the ones for which appearance conquers everything. Short term and shallow, they are prepared to equip themselves with prejudice, blitz people with as much fluorescent gear as possible, and fleetingly entertain the fans who soon abandon them. Action is equal to reaction, remember. It's simply the laws of karma.

But then there are others, ones who actually find the taste of water interesting. They very cautiously test it over again, sometimes choking, but gradually building up the courage to leap in and swim. Sadly, save for more the careful observers, these people don't usually make a spectacle of getting in and out of the water, and these days it's hard to find a good place to watch, given that the very people you want to see are rarely on the most approachable beaches, but rather in small hiding places. All the more important, then, that such enjoyment can be seen, regardless of whether the water's clear or muddy, the weather stormy or calm.

For me, London duo Cult With No Name (Erik Stein and Jon Boux) is one such phenomenon. Their music is not some passing mantra, but rather a carefully kept secret (straight from clear waters) that should be shared. Poetic, and stacked in multiple layers of keyboards, Cult With No Name see themselves as post-punk, half-drunk, electronic, philharmonic, atmospheric, esoteric, balladeers. Their minimal approach (lead vocals, rhythm piano, lead piano, rhythm vocals) recalls singers who colour their voice with narratives, as if they were actors; Steven Brown (Tuxedomoon, Ninerain), Colin Newman (Wire, Githead), or maybe even Elton John stuck in an elevator with Howard Devoto (Magazine, Luxuria). Such distorted comparisons are rarely seen these days, even within 80s nostalgia. However, CWNN aren't nostalgists, but rather protagonists, satisfied to promote their own intricate sound with honesty in place of sloganeering.

The term 'a grower' is sometimes used by music consumers, and 'Paper Wraps Rock' is just that, a staircase where thrill an enjoyment is heightened with each successive step. With each passing minute, its clarity of concept is more exposed. If you've never been in a bar where a piano paints a background to an atmosphere of smoke, then it's probably time to try this. Their music is a touch too close to extroverted to simply come across as mindless virtuosity, although others will simply choose to daydream. The choice is yours.

A linked recommendation is Erik Stein's (lead vocals, rhythm piano) Cult Of the Week blog, where you might uncover some of the best kept musical secrets of the late 70s and early 80s. I'm guessing that Cult With No Name themselves will one day be the heroes of something similar. Isn't it interesting how some present day cults can paint a more beautiful picture of the world?



Mileta Okiljevic