NFU

Portsmouth quartet Noise Factory United release an urgent missive from post punk psych control with a six track debut EP Visions From The Frontier, Richard Blowes, Blowtorch Records

CLOUD PLEASER

'… this slice of philosophy comes wrapped in suitably dense and trippy shoegaze sonics – bass and beat driven, soaked in layers of guitars that are both claustrophobic and chiming, dense and delicate, as required, and the vocal run, half buried through the music, causing you to bend an ear and listen more intently to the lyrical wisdom.' Dave Franklin, The Big Takeover.

NFU VIII

Do you think we can ascend?

Leave them all behind

When the air grows thinner

The higher we climb

 

 

Will horizons dissolve?

With our feet miles above the ground

Will the heavens absolve

When our boots leave the ground

 

 

You will no longer have to pretend

Or wipe the tears from your eyes

Stupefaction awaits and a new frame of mind

 

 

Will the walls come down?

With our feet miles above the ground

Will we be unchained?

When gravity seeks to reclaim all the dreams, and the fads and the hopes

 

 

8,000 miles

is that all it takes

8,000 miles

distance to contemplate

8,000 miles

if that’s what it takes

8,000 miles,

if that’s what it’s going to take, to be

A cloud pleaser  

A  cloud pleaser

When the time is right …

THE QUICKEST BLADE IN THE WEST

‘There is a strong eighties post punk/electronica feel to the track bringing to minds bands as diverse as The Human League, Visage and Wire. What stands out initially is the slightly wobbly arpeggiated synth which immediately sets up a feeling of unease and dysfunction, soundtracking your paranoia in monochrome. Rather than the Cold War and threat of nuclear extinction in the 80s, this is now fuelled by billionaires aiding and abetting far right takeovers, surveillance technology and toxic hysteria around being kind to your fellow humans.’ Richard Blowes, Blowtorch Records.

 

NFU VII

Oh man, can I ever be just?

Oh woman, who asks me the question

Would my mama be happy with me?

 

The quickest blade in the west

Can he be just?

The quickest blade in the west

Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

The quickest blade in the west

Can it ever be just?

The quickest blade in the west

Go on tell me, tell me, tell me

Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

 

Shh, shh, schh – chut (French for shh in English) 

Shh, shh, schh – chut (French for shh in English) 

Shh, shh, schh – chut (chut = French for shh in English) 

Shh, shh, schh – chut  

  

Oh man, the oblique slides with bated breath

Like whispers from the jaws of our demise

 

Oh woman, can I really here what’s being said?

And would my mama be happy with me?

 

The quickest blade in the west

Can he be just?

The quickest blade in the west

Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

The quickest blade in the west

Can it ever be just?

The quickest blade in the west

Go on tell me, tell me, tell me

Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

 

Several seconds to open the abyss

Several seconds, red rubies on my neck

Where has my Olympus gone?

 

Shh, shh, schh – chut 

Shh, shh, schh – chut  

CRUNCH

FRACTURES

Fractures brings together ‘60s psychedelia, ‘70s punk a la The Homosexuals, ‘80s Talking Heads-esque storytelling and ‘00s jangly indie rock. It feels right at place in the modern post-punk era that includes the likes of Sleaford Mods. Graeme Smith, York Calling.

NFU VI

I look across the breakfast table

Over the steam of the morning coffee

And the ashtray of degradation

Marks the line of our separation

 

You take your coat  and leave the flat

Without so much as a word or an empty gesture

And I’m left with the realisation

Of collective self-destruction

 

And so I take to the street in my turn

On my round of social observations

Of all the atomised individuals

Of all the individual individuals, and the mirage of individuality

 

Chorus

FRACTURES, don’t say you weren’t told

Oh the fractures, so slowly unfold

Fractures, don’t say you weren’t told

Oh the fractures, so slowly unfold

 

And the wheels of the state go round and round

The hamsters on their wheels go round and round

And the wheels of the train don’t go round no more

Because they’re broken

 

And no I don’t want to shop

Or buy from a screen,

Or seek the latest offer, and be reified in the name of consumerism

In this era of post-production

 

So when we seek out solace at the breakfast table

In the silence of the morning fog

Neglecting the socially isotropic networks

For the microscopic cellular kind

 

We cast aside the possibilities of fruition

And the day the breakfast tables are ablaze

With the lost art of conversation

Of how to realise the impossible

 

Chorus

FRACTURES, don’t say you weren’t told

Oh the fractures, so slowly unfold

Fractures, don’t say you weren’t told

Oh the fractures, so slowly unfold

 

 

(Outro) Politico-Disco

 

Je’ai, j’ai pas de regrets

 

But I do, I do, I do, I do

 

I’m so full of regrets / politico-disco

I feel I must need /politico-disco

I think we must need /politico-disco,

I think I must need / politico-disco,

disco, disco, disco

 

 

NFU V

The London Artefact

doesn’t even come close

to the atavistic fears

and the crocodile tears

of the six packer, overrated sledge hammer

 

Marteau, fou du marteau 

Need a ladyhammer

Marteau, fou du marteau

For square pegs and round holes

Marteau, fou du marteau

Need a ladyhammer

Marteau, fou du marteau

For square pegs and round holes

Marteau, fou du marteau

 

Arrache clou 

Arrache coeur

450g

 

As a matter of fact

she can do better than that

with the chauvinistic years

returning to the future

and the six packer, overrated sledge hammer

 

Marteau, fou du marteau 

Need a ladyhammer

Marteau, fou du marteau

For square pegs and round holes

Marteau, fou du marteau

Need a ladyhammer

Marteau, fou du marteau

For square pegs and round holes