From start to finish De Novo fills me with romantic memories from when I was a skate park loitering, long –sleeve t-shirt wearing, upstart teen with a head full of musical pipe dreams. All the way through every listen all I could think about was what ever happened to Jackass, P-Rock TV, Scuzz, Atticus, Tony Hawk Pro-Skater, Whitmore, Sweatbands, The original Quiggins, those 50p band badges in Afflecks Palace (still there), those leather studded belts, trucker caps, Reel Big Fish (still around), Adam Sandler’s comic ability, Kazaa, MSN Messenger. Not out of nostalgia as such but because it got me thinking why did this stuff fade away if it can still be made so damn fresh and good with so much love and personality.
So to the most pressing matter, the songs. ‘De Novo’ kicks off with the nefarious ‘Uncle Betty’, a seedy tale of cocaine and cross dressing. This story is perfectly told by Villy and turns the dubious subject matter into a seriously unsettling song, sang from the perspective of a suspicious nephew, learning at an early age of his debauched uncle. The video that accompanies this song is well worth a watch, adding a murky and twisted dimension to the story (notice the Lomax being used as one of the locations)
So to the most pressing matter, the songs. ‘De Novo’ kicks off with the nefarious ‘Uncle Betty’, a seedy tale of cocaine and cross dressing. This story is perfectly told by Villy and turns the dubious subject matter into a seriously unsettling song, sang from the perspective of a suspicious nephew, learning at an early age of his debauched uncle. The video that accompanies this song is well worth a watch, adding a murky and twisted dimension to the story (notice the Lomax being used as one of the locations)
‘No Reward’ is quite a handsome little jive led on a merry prance by a jovial and engaging guitar riff. Never has inferiority been given such a positive betrayal. ‘L.O.L’ then hops into action almost as if it is a crescendo of its predecessor, such is its immediacy. It is a straight up tale of one mans frustrations at his partners’ skills in duplicitousness. It is another story that will chime with Villy’s target audience as it encapsulates one of the major dilemmas first experienced by most during their youth.
‘Chalk ‘n’ Cheese’ plays the E.P out and is perhaps the most provoking tale of the frustrations of the creative adolescent. The pairing of a hard-working, realist yuppie and an easy-going, slow-acting ‘artist’ is played out in this chirpy tune with a rugged narrative. I’m sure I would be forgiven for thinking that Villy has written from experience here as a dream-chaser himself, perhaps frustrated with being constantly berated for not preferring a life climbing the formal career ladder.
Villy Raze really has found his calling; writing snappy, punk-spirited tunes full of biting social insight and pop hooks galore. This is music that will embed itself amongst rabbles of disenfranchised youths, climbing trees on their days away from education, smoking skunk on a supermarket car park, consuming copious amounts of Taurine before searching for a house party to crash. And how those care free, happy-go-lucky scamps would dance the night away.
Krystian Hudson
‘Chalk ‘n’ Cheese’ plays the E.P out and is perhaps the most provoking tale of the frustrations of the creative adolescent. The pairing of a hard-working, realist yuppie and an easy-going, slow-acting ‘artist’ is played out in this chirpy tune with a rugged narrative. I’m sure I would be forgiven for thinking that Villy has written from experience here as a dream-chaser himself, perhaps frustrated with being constantly berated for not preferring a life climbing the formal career ladder.
Villy Raze really has found his calling; writing snappy, punk-spirited tunes full of biting social insight and pop hooks galore. This is music that will embed itself amongst rabbles of disenfranchised youths, climbing trees on their days away from education, smoking skunk on a supermarket car park, consuming copious amounts of Taurine before searching for a house party to crash. And how those care free, happy-go-lucky scamps would dance the night away.
Krystian Hudson