1 2 3 4 5 
Reviewed for FasterLouder

Its been a great year for krautrock with the release of the Kraftwerk remastered albums, the amazing explorations of the new Flaming Lips record and now, late in the year, the release of the debut album by Bristol’s Beak>.

The main attention is obviously focused on the involvement of Geoff Barrow, he of Portishead fame, who predominately plays drums on the record. The other two members are Matt Williams (keyboards) and Billy Fuller(bass) who both also have other separate music projects outside Beak>.

The ghost of Portishead is definitely there in the sound of the music the trio create. The eerie, tripped out moments are aplenty and they share a sparse cold landscape where the music sounds like the last living creature. A perfect example is the song Pill where you could easily picture Beth Gibbon’s voice gently wailing in the distance.

The predominant reference on the album is to late 60s and 70s experimental German music, specifically krautrock and its progenitors like Can, Neu and Faust. I Know is a skipping, pulsing drum driven track that dances gorgeously out of the speakers. The bass melts into the snare and hi-hat and the keyboards trace out a hypnotic warm and wandering melody.  The vocals are distant, processed and it matters little what the words are, they just add to the otherworldly thrust of the song.

Battery Point is one of the many highlights on Beak>’s debut with its delicate post rock meanderings. Delayed guitar takes centre-stage and gently weaves a swelling trail of scattering notes likes stars in the sky. Over seven minutes the song grows with a Mogwai grace until the stars burst and the remnants float off into the distance. Its the most beautiful and graceful moment on the record.

On tracks like Ears Have Ears Beak> deconstruct the krautrock textbook by chopping and separating the repetition and the groove, making it jagged and uncomfortable yet at the same time still rhythmically infectious. Blagdon Lake sounds like a lo-fi Hawkwind tentatively exploring their limitations while Barrow Gurney is a descent into analogue implosion like Aphex Twin having a hissy fit.

There is a definite nod to noise and doom bands on a song like Dundry Hill with its distant shadowing of Sunn O)). Perhaps the ‘>’ in Beak> is some kind of nod toward that particular band.

Anyone with a passing interest in the electronic strains of Portishead, 70s krautrock and post-rock in general will find many gems amongst these recordings. That they were twelve songs recorded live in one room with no overdubs or repair speaks volumes about the musical spark and connection the trio have. It’s as if the limitations they placed on themselves freed them up to so many more wonderful possibilities.