A mere duo, which is all the more surprising when you hear the vigorous noise they unleash, Black Futures are a full-on collision of crushing, techno, nihilistic punk and cataclysmic industrial. The band’s stated aim is to make the listener feel like “all existence is smacking you in the face and making you just stare in awe at its absurd diversity and scale” and whilst such goals may seem caught between the lofty and the ridiculous, there’s no doubting the intensity of the band’s delivery on record.
Opening with N.N.N, Black Futures immediately conjure an atmosphere of dystopian decay, the lush synths recalling Vangelis’ score for Blade Runner, before the band unleash the stuttering love, an industrial strength track augmented by banks of gleaming electronica that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Prodigy record. With a guest spot from P.O.S., Love is a huge track that sounds like a million dollars and yet packs enough revolutionary punch to remain subversive, recalling the ear-splitting joy of hearing fat of the land for the first time and tying neatly in with an audience attuned to the muscular musings of Idles. Next up, the breathy vocals and ambient synths of Karma Ya Dig?! give way to a tougher framework that tips a nod towards the underground dance ethics of Losers’s second album. Crossing genres at will, there’s a real joy in the band’s approach and it makes for a refreshing listen even for those thought to be terminally affected by ennui in today’s over-saturated marketplace. Boasting a scene-stealing cameo from Bobbie Gillespie (recalling his guest spot for Death in Vegas), Me. TV is a sneering comment on modern social media trends that sits somewhere between Primal Scream, Marilyn Manson and the Sex Pistols. It’s a cracking track, a sure-fire live killer thanks to its memorable chorus and meaty guitars, and it pitches intelligence and firepower in equal measure. The first half of the album concludes with Body And Soul, a track that sees the band genre-hop again to play in a sandbox populated by Depeche Mode and QOTSA, the pounding toms and repeated mantra of the title suddenly stripped away to unveil gleaming dials and a chrome endoskeleton in a surprise reveal that will set the dancefloor on fire.
Opening up the album’s second half, the synth patches and samples of Youthman set the listener up for one hell for one hell of an explosive blast of industrial-strength techno before the hypnotic Riches swaggers down the aisle, initially sounding like Morcheeba on steroids before suddenly finding its inner Gibby Haynes and heading off in an entirely unexpected Butthole Surfers direction with nary a word of warning. Needless to say, it’s fucking awesome and you start to wonder why more bands aren’t this gloriously adventurous. The band settle down a touch for the mid-paced Tunnel Vision, sneakily riffing on John Lennon’s lyrics and offering up a shimmering chorus to die for. In contrast, Gutters sounds like an Idles remix project, a celebration of working your way up from the bottom without reference to anyone who believes themselves superior. Another arena-filler pours forth, next, in the form of the giant Trance, the drums seemingly recorded by an army of robo-precise tub-thumpers, over which the band layer glittering synths and melodies reminiscent of early Arcade Fire. It leaves the sinister, piano-powered Power Drunk to bring the album to a close, the band crowbarring so many disparate musical elements into the space of just three, short minutes that its hard to keep track. It proves a dizzying, socially-conscious, robo-glam finale and it brings the album to a storming close.
For a major label act, Black Futures walk the tightrope between art and commerce with surprising gusto. Sure, they’ll give you the arena-filling beats and they’ll pack their songs with hooks but, that they manage to do this without any apparent compromise is nothing short of remarkable. Whilst the Prodigy managed a similar transition, it took them three albums, the band becoming too big to fail by the time the gloriously snotty video for smack my bitch up was eventually unleashed to an outpouring of moral outrage. In contrast, Black Futures seem to be remarkably clear-eyed about what they want to achieve musically and the fact that they’ve gained label interest does not change the impression that the duo would have released the album exactly as it is, even if they were self-pressing the thing from a seedy bedsit. Dizzyingly loud, packed with sing-a-long moments and socially aware, Never Not Nothing is a dazzling record and one that looks set to assure the band’s future. 9
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