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	<title>Bastards of Fate &#8211; HHBTM Records</title>
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	<title>Bastards of Fate &#8211; HHBTM Records</title>
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		<title>Bastards of Fate &#8211; Suck the Light Out</title>
		<link>https://www.hhbtm.com/product/bastards-of-fate-suck/</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[diana@hhbtm.com]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Wed, 01 May 2019 06:54:39 +0000</pubDate>
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					<description><![CDATA[The <span class="il">Bastards</span> of <span class="il">Fate</span> sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before, a synthesis of everything that’s come before them, and a preview of everything that’s coming after. Their first two albums won praise from places like <strong>The Big Takeover</strong> <em>‘an uncompromising onslaught of demented pop</em>’ and <strong>Magnet </strong>‘<em>walks the line between visionary and downright freaky. It’s a beautiful cacophony</em>.’, but now that they’re on a real label, one that isn’t a weekend hobby, The <span class="il">Bastards</span> of <span class="il">Fate</span> are finally going to get the attention they deserve. Immaculately dressed and chronically depressed, equally comfortable amongst the mutants &#38; the elite, the overworked &#38; the effete, The <span class="il">Bastards</span> of <span class="il">Fate</span> have come to save music.

With songs about the struggle to be human in an inhuman world, delivered through a combination of humor &#38; dread that rings true on every level, <strong><em><span class="il">Suck</span> The <span class="il">Light</span> <span class="il">Out</span></em></strong> is a sonic feast, a lyrical extravaganza, an album that goes where others are too cool to tread. It’s where science meets love, where suicide meets hope. It begins with the ringing of bells, a Cardiff church recorded during a UK tour, before slamming into ‘<em>Freemasons</em>’ the band’s biggest, most anthemic song yet, with an opening line to die for:

<em>‘A constant stream of bullshit / is coming from my mouth.’</em>

The product of a collective lifetime spent in Roanoke, Virginia, trapped in its geographic isolation &#38; omnipresent cold mist, it’s pointless to compare them to anyone. <em><strong><span class="il">Suck</span> <span class="il">Out</span> The <span class="il">Light</span></strong></em> sounds like every genre of music ever recorded. Wellz, the bassist, has a list of every band they’ve ever been compared to, a rollercoaster of influences, from <strong>ZZ Top</strong> to <strong>Merzbow</strong>, from <strong>Sifl &#38; Olly</strong> to <strong>Sparks</strong>. It’s <strong>Jarvis Cocker </strong>meets <strong>Frank Zappa</strong>. Frontman Doug Cheatwood writes like <strong>Kafka</strong> and dances like a stuntman. It’s none of these things. It’s everything. ‘<em>Waste My Time</em>,’ with lead vocals by keyboardist Cam, is the sweetest-sounding thing they’ve ever done. <strong>Shania Twain</strong>’s already tabbed it as her comeback single. The desperate ‘<em>Dark Matter</em>’ will make you weep, then smile, then weep again. ‘<em>Unicorns In Love</em>’ just makes you smile.

It’s not a mess, it’s hypermodernity—a violent avalanche of ideas tumbling one after the other. This is what music should sound like in the 21st century with the history of recorded music at our fingertips: eclectic as fuck and surfing deliriously atop the wave of garbage all around us, attempting to make sense of it all. Because we live in weird times, The <span class="il">Bastards</span> know how to be weird. Because we live in a time of fake smiles, The <span class="il">Bastards</span> know how to be melodic. And because we live in a time when all of us are dying inside, The <span class="il">Bastards</span> know how to make you feel.

The <span class="il">Bastards</span> of <span class="il">Fate</span> understand what it’s like to be lonely, what it’s like to think too much, what it’s like to not think enough, what it is to live surrounded by spiders &#38; fear, the walls closing in and all human interaction filtered through a screen, everything becoming so bleak that the only thing left to do is laugh. Because to see the humor in one’s spiritual death is to achieve true enlightenment.

A music world that doesn’t their avant-garde indie power pop, their dark/<span class="il">light</span> thoughts, their endless hooks. their heaping scoops of melody &#38; noise, is a music world that is dead inside, with nothing left to do but drop.]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Tracklisting:</p>
<ol>
<li>Freemasons</li>
<li>Portal to Hell</li>
<li>Dark Matter</li>
<li>Book of Lies</li>
<li>Misanthropy</li>
<li>Girlfren</li>
<li>Caligula</li>
<li>Super Collider</li>
<li>Unicorns in Love</li>
<li>Waste</li>
<li>Meat Star</li>
</ol>
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