Produced by Ski and Rob from high Vis. Where other bands seem to be hellbent on pushing an energy of exhilaration, London’s premiere grief peddler’s Secrecy seem to be more interested in reminding us all what deep shit we are in. Their debut recorded outing captures the morbid and grandiose power of their successful string of London shows, refining the message to a promising and bewildering first release.
Taking compositional cues from The Execute, Southern Death Cult, Vex and The Chameleons, the room filling instrumentals carry a bleak and punishing prophecy of moral turmoil and hysteria, opting to drive the notion of post punk off a cliff through force of will alone. The sound is crisp and wide without giving up the austerity necessary to carry the prophetic sense of dire urgency in the vocals, driving and marching drums and bass lines carrying almost danceable guitar parts to climax. Soaring guitars over driving drums push the corpus to blistering movement, restrained by lyrics about fucking and dying, an Eros/Thanatos act delivered with a refreshing lack of irony or sarcasm.
Lyrical influences from Rimbaud and Baudelaire abound, veering from the brink of poetry back down to primitive taunts and cries.
