Leicester’s very own Residents, THE MAJNOONS, have been making an art form of keeping things dark. Over the past two-going-on-three years, they’ve twice stuck their collective head above the parapet with fantastic, double A-sided singles, knocked us out and then retreated back to obscurity. Even now, we still only have a vague idea who they are.
And now they’re back for a third time. Again they’re touting a limited edition 7” (250 copies only) on heavyweight black wax in a tastefully under-stated sleeve and giving away the merest hint of information. S’alright though: the enigma factor only draws us in further...to discover that this is their third belting single in a row.
‘Repetition’ comes first. A diseased, trip-hop mutation egged on by drowsy, drugged beats and scratchy guitar squalls. Its frighteningly blank vocals are delivered in an anaesthetised manner akin to David Bowie’s ‘Repetition’ (itself an observation on domestic violence) and this matter-of-fact approach merely makes its observations on addiction, obsession and death (“she questions me with worms in her mouth”) all the more chilling.
Flip over for the gripping, claustrophobic ‘Sweet Velvet’: a skeletal guitar hook vying for attention with sparse electronica, nocturnal whispered vocals, motorik beats and just a hint of lost post-rock heroes Bark Psychosis. As with the previous Majnoons’ flips (‘Boudoir’ and ‘All Love Hate’), quality is again paramount.
The Majnoons, then, continue along their singular sonic path where shadows fall, fear and temptation lurk around corners in roughly equal amounts and everything does indeed bleed out. For all the danger involved, you’ll find yourself following ‘em regardless.
dlc Records online