'
Cosmetic' is another impressive racket. The odd splash of colour couldn't hurt, though.
'Cosmetic', the title of the second album by self-confessed 'weird punks'
NOTS, could suggest different things. Is it about improving appearance by shades of powder and pencil, or suffering scalpel and suction?
A few moments into '
Blank Reflection', there's no doubt we're going under a rusty blade, as Charlotte Watson's submerged-sounding drums beat a steady, ominous tattoo, the looming menace heightened by bass, warning synth and Natalie Hoffman's harsh, percussive guitar.
It's a dark, cold place which the Memphis four-piece's sound occupies here, scraping away what little veneer the avowedly lo-fi 'We Are Nots' had. "I look out my window at night," Hoffman sneers through a curtain of fuzz, drawing us in to the album's world. "There's nothing but cold, cold steel". Next, '
Rat King' ups the tempo, guitars appropriately grimy as Alexandra Eastburn's synth swoops and pans, a laser beam shot through the murk.
Along with Hoffman's alternately drawling and hectoring delivery, those keys are still the secret weapon in NOTS' stockpile, adding a shuddering melody beneath the bracing post-punk rattle of '
Inherently Low'. '
Cold Line', too, gets a hefty dose of droning synth lines, playing off the Slits-ish gang vocals.
