Anyone who reads this knows that I follow the path of Shriekback rather closely. I consider them one of the intrinsic Post-Punk projects that have been in motion, variously now, for over 44 years. With only one duff album to their credit, I have lots of time for them. I normally get the word out on any activity fans might desire to know about, but last October there was a glitch in the system. I’ve been on the official mailing list for a dog’s age as I buy each CD from the source, and I’ve contributed to every crowdfunding effort. But apparently, last October, the call went out that the band were crowdfunding the 18th Shriekback album during the month that I happened to be living in a climate disaster area with highly problematic electricity/phone/internet bandwidth at that time. So I completely missed out on the siren call, otherwise it would have been duly noted here, as ever!

But just because you didn’t see it here at PPM doesn’t mean that Shriekback have sat idle. The album was made int he fall/winter period for a successful £40,000 crowdfund effort and as on last Monday, has been sent out to any pledgers in download form. As with the last album, this was down to Barry Andrews’ efforts alone. It seems that as Shriekback enter their golden years Carl Marsh and Martyn Barker have sat this one out again. Owing to the “finite time theorum” that will shake up your priorities once you are of a “certain age” [it’s already started with me as I have begun to move away from my music collecting stance] the other two are seeking other outlets right now. Word has it that Marsh is working on a solo project to sit on the shelf with his 1989 solo album that I’ve never seen and the more ubiquitous Happyhead project. We await that with interest, of course.

Of course, Mr. Andrews has plenty of practice at defining the Shriekback artistic P.O.V. He’s driven the project for a long time now and has already successfully recorded the last Shriekback album all by his lonesome. So we know he is capable of doing it. And of course Wendy and Sarah Partridge are here singing BVs to enhance the vibe. So it’s not like it’s some early Prince record. There’s even a track with an entire music bed courtesy of Fluke’s Mike Tournier [gasp]. So let’s get to Shriekback #18, shall we?

Shriekback: Monument – UK – DL/CD [2025]

1. The Curse
2. Ithaka
3. Wasps In Heaven
4. Just World Fallacy
5. Plumed!
6. Idiot Dancing
7. Not Designed For Pleasure
8. Burn Book
9. All My Crude, Blunt Tools
10. Monument

The album opens by lobbing “The Curse” at our waiting ears. The sub-rhumba opening featured a very 1971 organ patch before the methodical, medium tempo beat began its deathmarch. Mr. Andrews offered his swaggering vocal while being abetted by the declamatory BVs to fatten things up without adding any sugar to the mix. “Quetzalcoatl made the windows rattle” was a lyric that assured us this was a song from the unique pen of Barry Andrews. We were home now in Shriekland and it was just as comfortably uncomfortable as it had always been.

Andrews middle eight solo played like a pressure cooker on the synth as the grinding organ and mournful touch of harmonica underneath it all kept one foot of the song in The Blues; though The Blues never had reptilian synth bass queasily underpinning the vibe as “The Curse” had here. The climax to the song was left to the ladies singing a lyric interpolated from W.H, Henley’s poem “Invictus” as Andrews cut through the tension of it all with a serrated rhythm guitar lick and the final word going back to the aerated jets of synth spraying out of the song. Unable to be contained lest the pressure build.

The next song was another piece reaching to poetry for its inspiration and namesake. This time it was Constantine Cavafy’s piece, “Ithaka.” A musing on the importance of the journey and not the destination, given here an ironic twist by a voice nearing the end of that expedition [a.k.a. one’s life] and wondering what it was all for? Of course, this being Shriekback and not Peggy Lee, we’re treated to a very modest Fender Rhodes electric piano figure that loops for a bar before settling into a pounding waltz time groove given to much Sturm und Drang by Andrew’s commanding chorale. Ramping up the intensity of the synth solo in the climax before the tension filled night of the song was broken by the dawn of the distant peal of bells and harmonica in the coda.

I have to say that I’ve been more than enraptured by the one track here that was a co-write with Mike Tournier of Fluke. Given that Fluke and Shriekback shared management, things like this happen fairly often. But the great experiment failed to gel, leaving a handful of songs as the result of that attempt. This song was one where Andrews was so enamored by the music bed that Tournier had concocted, that he sought and received permission to use it for this album rather than building his own arrangement of the song.

“Wasps In Heaven” was a quintessential Shriekback moment as Mr. Andrews mused over the shrill and vibrating backing track on the presence of wasps in the afterglory. The ability to find even the perfection of His Heaven’s Glory as an unreachable goal was a point of view that only Shriekback would ever proffer! And while the philosophical thrust was both witty and Irreverent, at the end of the day, it all comes down to “it’s got a good beat and I can dance to it,” yeah?

The rhythmic impetus here was crackling with random wave synth energy and Andrews’ vocalizing featured for the first time ever, a pronounced Hip Hop cadence as he deftly dropped the highly syncopated lyrics in and amongst the buzzes and beats. I loved his brash, doubled vocals giving the flow a big push at various points in the song, all leading inexorably, to the hilarious climax that never fails to put a big grin on my face.

The sense of dissatisfaction didn’t stop there as “Just World Fallacy” would prove. The gentle, almost acoustic intro settled into a Bluesy “hambone” cadence with another touch of harmonica in the verses while the chorus structure veered into minor key territory to convey the sense of unease that the title rightly suggested. As the song evaporated near its end, the music bed resolved into a subdued Rave/Trance vibe.

Afro-Cuban rhythms and subtle hints of Hammond organ patches in “Plumed!” almost reached gentle skank status as Andrews and crew delicately wove verses that contained the deathless line “I’m gonna gaze at the mayonnaise and feel nothing at all.” Then the energy rush of the glorious chorus erupted with the force of a sudden solar flare, as the bifurcated structure of the song was now revealed in a delicate balance as the song was both introverted and very extroverted.

The first chorus also notably juggled the essential dynamic of pleasure versus its opposite: the rarely heard word “anhedonia” manifested here most notably! That certainly got my attention. As an elderly anhedonic, I have to thank my lucky stars that I live in the same universe as Barry Andrews as he gives voice to observations that I’m certain I would never hear elsewhere.

The kettle drums and brass patches in the jaunty upbeat sections of the song were full of vivacious energy; settling into a highly cloistered middle eight that made the intro sound brusque in comparison. Then the transition to the climax featured Andrews and the ladies singing the magnificent closing refrain; all but beseeching us to join in at home.

Next: …Dancing like An Idiot