Administering the Contempt: Vets In Hong Kong, EP.

Three semi-hygienic Londoners equipped with an attic of instruments, were Vets In Hong Kong a syringe you'd have little apprehension over injecting the mildy vitriolic, corrosive smoulder of their eponymous EP into bulging arteries. Off-kilter to within an inch of plummeting off the edge of contempt, there's an addictive, raging wind in the xylophonic willows of denouement Travelmakers Sing, whilst opener Flags shrouds a darkly emotive heart in metronomic synth glitch and flickers of hi-hat that frenetically buzz in dazed yearning to piercingly sting Matt Grindon's forever-fluctuating warble. Nobody recalls the late, great Hemstad had they opted to rehearse in dimly lit graveyards in place of Rainbow Road, crescendoing acoustics clamouring portentously over sparse lyrical skeleton, whilst were Shapes You Made And Left Without any more unstrung it'd be left asphyxiated by its own torn heartstrings. If Tom Smith thought The Back Room was a dark, dank purgatory on his journey to unfathomable ubiquity, Vets In Hong Kong dwell in starless catacombs of an Inferno, perturbing your every equilibrium in incontrovertible rapture. Turning qualms to quivers instantaneously, there's a perplexing tendency for this self-titled extended-play to sound like the introduction to your favourite band that your favourite band were never quite able to conduct.

  Vets In Hong Kong EP by VetsInHongKong