Blacklisters are a Leeds based quartet who sound like an emergency at a barbershop and although the antagonism is strong with Adult their second full-length it’s as unpolished as the local shinetops bar balancing politics. As such hipsters and other core fans will be wary to wash behind their ears for another week after plugging in to this heavy beer sweat inducing fusion record.
Sharing the same lyrics sheet as an aging bus driver, the subject of Blacklisters angst is about twelve years old with a lollipop and going to a bus stop analogy; broken and poorly maintained, with not nearly enough times available for the routes they’re going down.
Thrown together with a lot fandango the humour is lost in the serious attempt at coherent music, which does prevail through the whinge-stammering of performance drunkenness, even though that doesn’t make up for it. Trolling is really no excuse for dumbing down a perfectly good attempt at making a statement.
There is some authenticity shyly hidden behind the heavy jazz-funk/spirit of choad/heady rhythms grinding down from above which are not to be confused with a genuine hate criminals’ sonic manifesto because who would actually give a hamburger about the relativity of Axl Roses’ happiness on the music industry today? Guns & Posers?