So the band are called WZT Hearts.  But apparently, we are to pronounce that Wet Hearts.  WZT.  Wet.  Wzt.  Wet.  Doubleyouzedtee.  Wet.  Wizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.  Weeeeeeeeeeeeet.  Nope, I’m not having that.  You don’t come round my gaff, steal my teabags, pinch my girflriend’s bum, put my CDs back in the rack in the wrong order, and then take liberties with my language like that, you hear? 

Oh, but then again this is really good.  It opens with one of the year’s best Fennesz-inspired (damn, I need a new Fennesz record, I’m grabbing anything that sounds remotely similar and clutching it to my busom like a kleptomaniac nanny) pieces in “Hassler”, an epic buzzy thing which is overtaken by waves of distortion until it is a ragged ship, until the drums of death strike up, until the machines fail with a shriek, and until it goes down with all hands drunk and oblivious.

The album never quite reaches those heights again, which is probably as much a function of Newtonian physics as anything – there is so much friction playing against momentum, dragging and scraping and grinding against the chainsaw guitars of “Lava Nile” and the vocal splinters of “Hearth Carver”.  This kind of lunacy will inevitable elicit comparison to NYC rabblerousers Black Dice, but in truth WZT Hearts deserve their name to acquire a reputation of its own, other than for the aforementioned reasons of linguistic nonsensicality.  I may forgive them that in time, but I’ll never forget.

Thread Rope Spells Making No Sense is available now from Carpark.

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