Forged from the entrails of art-rocky garage punkers The Bacchae, Black Moth are clearly revelling in their new vehicle for heavy adventures.
Blackbirds ‘fell from the sky’ on debut The Killing Jar, affirming that they were out to create something harder than their previous incarnation – and at least as trippy. With Condemned To Hope, their new identity acquires adult legs. Black Moth build on the freshened nostalgia ignited by Uncle Acid And The Deadbeats, among others – heady, heavy psych-doom blasts in the likes of Tumbleweed owe a heck of a lot to early Black Sabbath. That’s no bad thing, especially not when listening to this late at night – you’ll want to run out and howl approval at the moon when The Undead King Of Rock And Roll swaggers through your speakers, Harriet Bevan’s vocals adding a witch-rock allure. Not that their punk-infused garage days are totally behind them. Edges of Iggy And The Stooges, even Joan Jett in Harriet’s more vitriolic moments, ensure Condemned To Hope remains a dirty creature – classic rock meets early-’70s punk guitar spitting out of White Lies. A slick, accomplished act, made strangely stylish with their louche streak of imperfection. Nice. Polly Glass
