MY FATHER MY KING
Maybe you're one of the Mogwai faithful. Or maybe you're a recent convert. In either case, you can stop reading now. But if you're a Mogwai agnostic, let My Father My King sing you the gospel. Since 1996, Glaswegians Stuart Braithwaite, Dominic Aitchson and Martin Bulloch's journey into space rock—the natural next step after Spacemen 3 and My Bloody Valentine—has set new standards for indie-rock momentum with each successive full-length. But this isn't a full-length—it's a one-track EP. And can a one-track EP, however long, make you crave that post-coital cigarette like all their previous albums? Oh, mais oui! After 20 minutes of lush reverb and melody, we're panting for more. My Father My Kingstarts rolling with an intricate guitar line that snowballs in intensity as each new instrument slowly sneaks into the mix, coalescing into the swirl of echo and delay that has become something of a Mogwai tradition. By the time the bass and drums kick in, My Father My King is exploding with the kind of monster distortion you can only get by running a Ratt pedal—check your local pawnshop!—through the amp your dad used in high school. It's the same welcome paradox that has made the rest of the Mogwai catalog so powerful: the beauty they're able to evoke in death-rock distortion and the destructive energy they tease out of the most serene guitar riffs. And it still works just fine. (Lara Rossmann)
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