Like my cousin Catherine, Shetland six-piece Middle Class Guilt moved away from the islands to Glasgow to ‘make it’. For Catherine, ‘making it’ meant taking very good photos of animals on a full-time basis. For Middle Class Guilt, ‘making it’ has meant spending the past six years honing their ‘folk drone’ and ‘rollicking juvenilia’, and now they’ve made their debut album – The Committee.
Before we dive into the album, what about that name? Of all the names of themes from films made by the Austrian film director Michael Haneke, Middle Class Guilt chose ‘Middle Class Guilt’. They could have gone with ‘The Crushing Alienation of Modern Society’ or ‘Complicity In Violence’, but they’ve probably picked the best one. It’s pleasingly daft, just like the fact that one of the band has the surname Mainland. One can only imagine how fellow Shetlanders feel about that. Presumably Mr Mainland’s family are cool with it.
Talking of cool, it’s difficult to figure out whether Middle Class Guilt have a complete lack of interest in the concept, or whether the ramshackle rock of The Committee is so deliberately anti-cool that it is in fact a bid for cool. Anyway, take opening song ‘Welcome to Shetland’ – it starts with a rather lovely melody played on a flute and the vocals sound as if they’ve been recorded in a stock cupboard. It’s all very Wicker Man slash demented 70s theme tune, but somehow it works. It’s like Arcade Fire with a sense of humour.
Shetland isn’t renowned for its long hot summers, but that hasn’t stopped Middle Class Guilt writing a song called ‘Long Hot Summer’, albeit with evil gameshow keyboard stabs and strained vocals à la David Byrne on ‘Once In A Lifetime’. On ‘D’Yever Feel Like Nothing?’, Joseph Morgan repeats the song title over and over before a shift in tempo ushers in disconcerting howling, as if he’s being physically attacked by his own nightmares. Basically, it sounds like The Fall. ‘Oh Sister’ is also reminiscent of a man on the edge. The band dutifully provide an angular canvas for his unhinged yelps from the bottom of a well. ‘Work Ethic’ begins with a Sundays-like sliding guitar riff before stopping and then starting again, then stopping for good before the two-minute mark.
If Ian Curtis had been in an early 70s funk band with access to early 80s synthesisers, the collective sound would be very close to Middle Class Guilt’s ‘Old Feet’. It’ll make you want to strut down the street and imagine you’re the hardest person in Glasgow, especially with lyrics such as ‘I’d like to slice off his face’. Burra is a very quiet place and couldn’t be further away from Glasgow if you tried unless you did try and travelled a bit more northwards. ‘Burra’ the song is about aching for the ‘good old days’, with cleanly-strummed and legible verses giving way to choruses that involve the place name being sung in various styles including falsetto and baby-practising-first-word. ‘Crowded’ is…crowded. It would be no surprise to learn that a real kitchen sink is featured as well as the proverbial one, but an insistent and euphoric piano line threads it all together.
According to Shetland folkore, trows are nocturnal creatures that enter people’s homes and kidnap musicians. Like trows, Middle Class Guilt are mischievous music-lovers, but in the best way. They’re clearly having a lot of fun, but the reverence they show for homeland stories on final song, ‘Trowie Song’ (released as a single last month), is just one reason for taking them seriously. The Committee is a fascinatingly adventurous DIY rock album and I formally propose that you buy it.
The Committee is out 24th January via Bandcamp and on limited edition cassette.
Middle Class Guilt socials: Facebook | Instagram | Spotify
Review by Neil Laurenson
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