We take these band names on trust, but Junior wants to know, “Are they ghosts?” “I don’t think so.” “They have no legs on the cover.” They must be then. She also notices howls subtly buried in the mix (not so subtle a motif, really) and “aaa-ooo”s along with them. An even smaller Shakira.
Krautrock’s rumble and pulse is all the rage, and Glasgow’s Phantom Band deliver it with a fair helping of swing, sounding like Nick Cave in a groove. The riff’s so compulsive it doesn’t need the song to make it a record of the year; it thrums and sashays with a style missing in the players themselves. Disappointingly, they’re a bunch of outré moustaches and beards in lumberjack shirts with not a ghoul in sight.
Hoooowling, hoooowling. Aaa-oo: