After a triumphant set at this year’s Truck Festival, we rewound to April to when Pynch released their debut album ‘Howling At A Concrete Moon’. Written by guitarist frontman Spencer Enock and produced by Enock and Andy Ramsey at The Nave, Press Play Studios, and Chillburn HQ. Image courtesy of the band.
In years gone by, bands would leave home for city life and make 2 or 3 albums based in that world. The hopeful debut, followed by the coming-of-age masterpiece, felt like a right of passage for bands in the UK. Then it’s off to the countryside to make cheese.
‘Howling At A Concrete Moon’ is available to buy on their Bandcamp page.
Alas, the sense of hope that ‘His ‘n’ Hers’, ‘Dog Man Star’, and ‘Modern Life Is Rubbish’ that led to the glory of ‘Different Class’, ‘Coming Up’ and ‘Parklife’ feels like an alternate reality in 2023. London’s Pynch look upon a city of greed, poverty, and air so toxic it can kill. Coupled with Tory misrule and the music industry’s race to the bottom, to even begin attempting an album is laudable.
Pynch, poetically tackles this generation being left behind in London in two parts. ‘The City (part 2)’ is the finest document of pressurised city living since Recreations’ (aka Sam Duckworth / Get Cape Wear Cape Fly) ‘Zones 9 & 10’. The sense of alienation in the overpopulation (“you never see the same face twice”) and the search for meaning (“is this what we were made for / For life on the 15th floor….fuck no”) are followed by a guttural howl on Enock’s guitars. It’s a panic attack wrapped up in slacker rock ‘n’ roll.
Its counterpart, ‘The City (part 1)’ in turn, says “fuck you” in part two. Acknowledging that “tomorrow is a lifetime away” serves up the most freeing sonic of the record. As Enock decrees, “forever has been and gone”, a four-minute warning resounds, and Pynch chooses to live for the moment. Musically, a mesh of Hot Chip solos and Franz Ferdinand riffs follows, packed in Pynch’s distinct lo-fi slacker outsider status. Spiritually, it’s as pure a moment of rock ‘n’ roll this decade.
This subtle level of defiance climaxes on the record closing three songs ‘Karaoke’, ‘London’, and ‘Somebody Else’. The former puts The Strokes’ ‘Is This It?’ into slow motion for the So Young generation to unite behind:
“Be good but don't go changing
Stay strong don't you waste it
We only get to go round once”
It’s as uplifting as any 90s and 00s polemic with the authenticity of Johnny Rotten howling “no future”. Enock’s melodic drawl has its roots in Jonathan Richman and Julian Casablancas, but through his lyrics, his melody begins a cultural deterritorialization. Finally, nostalgia mania has bitten the dust!
On ‘London’, they tap into a melody that wouldn’t be out of place in any era. The indie oddities of Golden Silvers and Bowie’s vocal hook combine with Enock’s wry take on how they are viewed:
“We waste our money all on drugs and coffee / We must be so lazy, why don’t we start saving? / Every penny counts if we wanna buy a house / Twenty years from now, the banks will bail us out”
Then, on album closer ‘Somebody Else’, Pynch write themselves into history with a stonewalled classic. Dan Le Sac vs Scroobious Pip beats go for a joyride with Jonathan Richman’s motoric whist Enock eloquently beds in vocally between Albarn and Coxon. The Strokes influence looms heavy, but again, they manage to distill it to a more tranquil tempo and match their intensity via lyrics. Climaxing with the “I just wanna feel / I just wanna feel / Something real” roar, you are left in no uncertain terms that Pynch are a special band. They walk the tightrope of poet and philosopher with effortlessness. Witty, smart, but crucially, always impassioned they are the sound of a generation that’s been fucked, yet despite all this, never give up.
Pynch’s debut album is full of such great era-defining couplets, it's easy to overlook just how many great musical moments it possesses. The dreamy Real Estate and Horros-esque (circa ’V’) synths of opener ‘Haven’t Lived a Day’ or the solos on ‘Tin Foil’ and ‘Maybe’, to name just a few.
A truly great moment in a sea of political despair. Viva la hope!