HOOKWORMS Microshift
Electro-based wonderment from West Yorkshire quintet. By Rob Hughes
DOMiNO 8/10
THE Boxing Day floods of 2015 had a devastating effect on Leeds and its surrounding areas, with hundreds of premises under water. One such casualty was the Suburban Home studio in Kirkstall, central hub of Hookworms, run by their de facto leader, MJ. The clean-up operation was extensive. Aided by volunteers and bankrolled by a GoFundMe campaign, MJ and the band spent six months rebuilding the place from the floor upwards.
This idea of rejuvenation, of starting afresh, plugs directly into the musical texture of their third album, Microshift. Having made their reputation as masters of churning psych-rock on 2013’s Pearl Mystic and follow-up The Hum – records that forged noisy two-chord grooves into kosmische jams at buzzing frequencies, like hardcore descendants of Flipper and Spacemen 3 – the new album finds Hookworms in the full embrace of electronica. Most of its songs have their origins in studio loops and samples, as opposed to live guitars, bolstered by drum machines and modular synths for added crispness.
It’s not quite as radical a move as it may appear. “Radio Tokyo”, a beatdriven standout from The Hum, hinted at a more streamlined way forward. But the genesis of Microshift can be found in the extracurricular concerns of various Hookworms. Among other bands, drummer JN is involved in Game_ Program, pitting ambient techno moods against motorik rhythms. And while MJ makes his living as go-to producer for a raft of visiting talents (Menace Beach, Waves, Martha, Soft Walls, Drenge and more), bassist MB moonlights in XAM Duo, a repository for experimental loops, Krautish improv and minimal soundscapes.
Such eclectic combinations provide Microshift with plenty of nourishment. As does MJ’s decision to largely dispense with the echo unit that, until now, has saturated his vocals. What emerges is a series of songs with a beating pop heart and twitchy hips. None more so than “Ullswater”, seven minutes of pulsing electro that attempts to corner a chunk of LCD Soundsystem’s dancefloor. Similarly, the hypnotic “Negative Space” unfurls around a vowelly loop and MB’s simple bass riff, before widening into a climax full of organ, guitars and spacey effects.
Much of Microshift’s power emanates from the dynamic between MJ and MB at Hookworms’ centre – the melodic popsmith versus the repetitive groover. This is beautifully realised in the whoosh and whirl of “Static Resistance”, in which guitarists JW and EO (Hookworms, as you may have guessed, operate on an initials-only basis) are also allowed free rein, and the spongier “Shortcomings”. MJ does, however, take full charge of “The Soft Season”, a slow ballad with muted harmonies that features a vocal flight indebted to Elton John’s “Rocket Man”.
Several guests expand the Hookworms sound further. Alice Merida Richards, of frequent touring partners Virginia Wing, adds her voice to the percussive ambience of “Each Time We Pass”. MB’s XAM Duo partner Christopher Duffin pumps sax into the dissonant sound collage that constitutes “Boxing Day” (named after the aforementioned flood) and Richard Formby, whose credits include Ghostpoet and Wild Beasts, brings extra synth savvy to the epic digital purr of “Opener”.
The generally brighter tone of Microshift isn’t necessarily reflected in its lyrical nature. A prevailing sense of loss and mortality runs throughout, allied to themes of broken romance, self-image and anxiety. The death of a close friend informs “Negative Space”, as does the Alzheimer’s and cancer diagnosis of MJ’s father. It’s an extraordinary vocal performance, the singer sounding ever more desperate as time ticks by: “My gut sinks low/I sat in there for hours trying to show you what I wrote.” Likewise, “Ullswater” takes its title from one of his dad’s favourite spots in the Lake District. “You’ve long lost the truth/If that’s hard for me to say/It must be awful for you,” sings MJ, reconciled to the cold truths of degenerative illness.
The sentiments in the break-up songs are no less easy to digest. MJ expresses sorrow and contrition on “The Soft Season”, while “Each Time We Pass” finds him resigned to making the same mistakes over and over. “Shortcomings” closes the album in a similar vein, MJ trapped in the walled mirrors of self-awareness, with all his perceived blemishes and flaws, trying to find a way to love the world. Yet the song ends with a touch of positivity – “Hold out
it will come” – as its melody lifts skywards to meet the faintest twitter of birdsong. As befits such a wonderful record, the suggestion here is that hope carries its own reward, whatever life cares to throw at you.