Glasgow does a good line in noisy and lo-fi music with the likes of Pinact and Halfrican blazing a trail for those who like their music sweaty, aggressive and delivered in explosive bursts of aggression and frustration to grim basements and gnarly clubs and Dune Witch Trails do a good job of picking up the baton.
From the clunky title to the five tracks fuzzily recorded and dispatched in under ten minutes, it’s fair to say that no one in Dune Witch Trails is planning a career for themselves as the next Chris Martin.
‘Good Will Come To You’ is a garage rock riot recalling cult heroes The Exploding Hearts, that manages to snatch a singalong melody and bolt it into the chassis of a grubby touring van and the rest of the EP is equally likeably lo-fi.
There’s obviously some cache in not going the pop song route on every track and the admirably obtuse ‘Cat Called Rover’ and the ragged ‘Gravity Expert ‘ demonstrate that punk rock fires are still burning here.
‘Magic Ball’ gives the greatest deference to conventional song structures and on balance its the better track, despite never deviating from the DWT masterplan of saying everything they need to say in less than 120 seconds and getting the fuck out.
Finally, the last and most intriguing track is ‘Radio Silence Radio Star’, which sounds like it has been beamed from some awful parallel universe where Bowie’s ‘Starman’ drifts off into space, gradually losing oxygen and disappearing into the heart of a black hole.
With its echoing gothic drawl, it’s a real shift in tone from the rest of the EP and a potential signifier for dark places Dune Witch Trails might choose to travel next.
If you think J Mascis is the Pope of pent up frustration then Dune Witch Trails will fit you like a stained and sweaty plaid shirt, and they’ve even got some surprises up their sleeves.
Words: Max Sefton