Mogwai

You shouldn't be reading this. It's completely redundant. There are no lyrics on this album, so all the potency, texture and variation of moods come from instruments alone. Mogwai paint pictures in sound; no words needed. This makes them hellish hard to write about. Everything is in the ear of the beholder: I may hear sadness where you hear laughter. If writing about music really is akin to dancing about architecture, how can anyone hope to write about Mogwai? Which is why you shouldn't be reading. It's also why I shouldn't be writing the text I've just told you not to bother reading. I pen hundreds of thousands of words each year, and sometimes feel I'm contributing to an ongoing problem. There are too many words in the world. We are bombarded by them. We pass by street-signs as we read our latest phone-texts, on our way to the shops with their proliferation of labels and adverts. Words scroll across our TV screens. They fill our style mags and free newspapers. They are plastered across our buses and phone-boxes. But words can lie and, hell, even at their best they lack precision. It would take screeds of them to begin to unpack any one track on this album - a track such as the opener, 'I'm Jim Morrison, I'm Dead'. Despite the irreverent title (and Mogwai love an intriguing title, especially one that hoodwinks the listener), this is a poignant tune, but it is the calm before the storm of 'Batcat', a ferocious and heartfelt thrash that harks back to the early 'gonzo' Mogwai of albums such as 'Ten Rapid' and 'Young Team'.

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