For a substantial chunk of the '80s, the City of Leeds
was a reliable exporter of the darker side of life. Whether this was down to
proletarian dissatisfaction, the effects of Thatcherism or simply due to a
preponderance of drum machines stuck on heavy reverb settings, we may never
know. The Lorries tended to be dogged by Joy Division comparisons rather than
the usual questions about occult interest, but a few bars of Talk About The Weather quickly
reveals why their brand of beat-heavy gloom was ushered beneath the tattered
wings of Goth. Claustrophobia reigns supreme, choking any moments of space and
silence before they have the chance to expand. Every second is comprehensively
smothered by an echoing snare-snap, or the wide, murky guitar washes which practically
swamp each track. Lyrically, the record richly mines the irony of titles such
as “Happy” in order to explore the chillier sides of human interaction and
dabble in moderate doses of existential angst. As a result, this is one weather
discussion devoid of sunshine.
The Lorries' first full
album kicks off with the grinding title track, steady, not punishing, but still
aggressive and Chris Reed's abrupt but
not shouted vocals. Keeping that in mind, Talk About
the Weather has more going on for it than meets the eye. There's
certainly more than a little ghost-of-Andrew
Eldritch in the arrangements, not to mention Ennio Morricone (thus trumping the Fields of the Nephilim's own twist on
that influence by a couple of years), but Reed's
lyrics and singing definitely show the Ian Curtis
touch more in their emotional roil as opposed to Hammer horror. As a result,
compared to the Sex Gang Children or the like, the
Lorries come across more straightforwardly, their music here sounding often
brusque. The album's downside is that the basic sound doesn't really change
much, but when it's on, as with the title track, it's very much on.
"Hollow Eyes" is another one of the winners, taking the high-speed,
nervous post-punk approach and adding on a great, simple, but effective chorus
to the spiralling riffs and the hollow bass lope, while the sudden shift in
velocity on "Strange Dreams" shows a great sense of drama.
"Sometimes" ranks up there as well for being the secret winner (it's
the closest the album gets to a quiet and tender love song, which it really
isn't per se). But Reed's singing aims at
a warmer approach here on the chorus, as does the music, and there's definitely
a tangled emotional interplay that comes through, love and hate in a few words.