Manchester-based musician, Psychederek, might have his tongue a tad in his cheek, but the music contained on the Space Arcade E.P., for Sprechen, is marvelous all the same. The title of Screamadereka is, yeah, sure, obviously, a punning play on the Primal Scream / Andrew Weatherall / Hugo Nicolson era-defining opus – a humorous homage – however the tune itself is a serious salvo of stadium-sized gothic rock. The press one-sheet citing shoegaze, the Cocteaus, and Death In Vegas. The rhythm section, of sonorous bass and drums, is initially slow and ponderous. Surrounded by racing, ringing, sequences, then explosions of siren-like synths. Picking up the pace as the production increases in complexity, and hallucinatory intensity, with the addition of details like eerie, alien, backwards guitar. Gathering momentum before hitting a trippy gated fade. Hardway Bros` Sean Johnston teams up with Duncan “Monkton” Gray for a rework. Their Downtown Disco Dub introduces a sort of skip to the set, together with party-starting percussion and handclaps. The duo shredding six-strings through echo-y tremolo, and wild, wild, wah-wah. Teasing out the track`s `60s psyche vibe. Vapourizing and panning vocals to full-on Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test hippy freak-out effect. On the digital release the pair also provide a second mix, that starts off much more subdued. More Carry Me Home, than heading Uptown. Smothered by smoky, Spooner Oldham, Muscle Shoals, Memphis Sessions lock-in, Farfisa organ, and spiked by actual Screamadelica SFX. A little like the Psychic Ills, until they flick the mirrorball switch midway through.
The other Psychederek original on offer, I`m Alright, is built around a growling, snarling, TB-303 type b-line. Morphing and mutating as it harks after late `80s / early `90s “indie-dance”. Lazily labeling it a “Madchester” revival would be doing it a significant disservice though, since there’s not a baggy shuffle in earshot. It`s more in line with Paris Angels` Perfume – or The Rapture`s “The Cure on quality E”. Fellow Sprechen signings, the 6-piece See Thru Hands, submit the song to massive, marauding subs, and reduce the remaining instrumentation to muted flutters and parps. Bashing the beat in with a Chicago basement boompty-boompt, turning their take into deviant deep house – dangerously overdriven, distorted. That rude LFO, effectively the new melody.