New Music: Pax Britannica

I think all songs are a “fuck you” in one way or another. This song is possibly one for everyone; the dull remnants of 90s and 00s MOR Indie, the self proclaimed DIY blogs who work only for clicks and Instagram opps, the funded Indie labels “developing talent” by stripping it of anything of interest but repackaging as bland and contrived (there’s your education, young people), the play it safe festivals, the death of anything and everything in our town and the excitement in its wake of the tiniest nugget of something, like that should be enough now; the town bars declaring their love for live music with three tones of beige for your pleasure, the blank empty wasteland where the opportunities we were told would be there if we worked hard, would be.

But in this case, that is all secondary. This is a fuck you to the era of Brexit. “Pax Britannica” is the sound, or is meant to be, of England in 2018/19. Fuck you to the bands who write a four chord progression and then plop some words on the top (that was us, so take that one with a pinch of salt). Our new music is meant to be music that is the soundtrack to an idea. It should go idea / place / time, then music, then words to bring it together.

“An empty empire of trash and trivia.”

Brexit is that space here. But we took it further. Brexit is the feel of this release too. We have about 8-9 songs ready to release. This isn’t the best. This is pretty much that old Peter Cook bit about the forming of the UN: “The only thing we could agree was that the first meeting absolutely shouldn’t be in Switzerland. So naturally that was the compromise choice”. It is perfect as our Brexit song. It’s confusing, unfocused, unfinished, half-thought, deluded, impenetrable, indecipherable, inaccessible – it’s just not want you want to hear after a hard day at work.

The original idea, the piano, is all but lost in the layers of noise above. How did we get here? Where is this going? It feels like it might go on forever. The instrumental “GhostBox” is a palate cleansing work in progress before the whole sickly situation comes around again.

Pax does end on a (musically) upbeat note, a stupidly jolly passage that lasts all of twenty seconds. It’s like the moronic jingle for the end of the world:

The war’s in your head
Peace in our time
All the mirrors are broken
Peace in our time
A room with no view
Peace in our time
No walls are falling
Peace in our time
Go back to the start
Peace in our time
And we
will come for you
in the night

We hope you enjoy the single, and fuck you.



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