Review of Self-titled Album by Thought Forms

Review of Through Forms self-titled album released through Invada.

Thought Forms Self-titled Album

Hailing from Bristol and signed to Portishead mainstay Geoff Barrow's Invada imprint, its still quite beguiling what to expect from Thought Forms, bearing in mind their mentor's more recent endorsements have included Amusement Parks On Fire, Julian Cope and of course already this year, The Horrors.

Having already emerged via a baptism of fire at Portishead's Nightmare Before Christmas curated ATP two years ago, the three-piece have managed to conjure up a maelstrom of their own doing ever since, culminating in this, their self-titled debut record that while falling mostly into the "instrumentally loud guitar-driven rock" territory, hardly fits the formulaic standard we've come to expect from the post-whatever collective of genres either.

Indeed, listen to main guitar wrecker Charlie Romijn's Silver Stairs Of Ketchikan alter ego and you'll hear an entirely different beast of schizophrenic licence altogether. Here though, there's an alluring dynamic between all three members that suggest Thought Forms didn't stumble across their craft by accident, yet rather than copy the latest Mogwai and Godspeed! You Black Emperor riffs through a fug of My Bloody Valentine flange and reverb, created something quite unique and inspiring, even down to the ingeniously labelled song titles such as 'Mr Steve Has Eaten Your Dog', a three-minute palette of noise whose moniker would make the mind boggle had it not been beaten senseless by such aural density in the meantime.

Elsewhere, 'Twenty Satellites On My Hill' feels like a heavy-handed stroll through a wind tunnel, ears pegged back under clouds of distortion while the euphoric blitzkrieg that is 'We Would Be So Happy If.' pretty much encapsulates Thought Forms ethos; defy logic whilst unravelling the waves of expectancy. The real highlight of 'Thought Forms' is reached around the album's midpoint however when 'Nothing Is As Easy As You Think' turns from a monster of rock the size of Goliath into a whispered yet valiant prog-hymn that sounds like Her Name Is Calla covering Yes.

Even the closing abstract electronica of 'Maggie' sends 'Thought Forms' out on a wing and a prayer, that makes it nigh on impossible to categorize under any one of a dozen sub-genres, and thankfully all the more better for it. At last, a collection of wholly original material that is actually listenable too. Bravo!


Dom Gourlay

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