Tourettes returns with a new album – released, this time, on Round Trip Mars, and with all music written, arranged and produced by Saan Barratt (of The Vietnam War and Dirtbags). To me, and I honestly don’t know how Dom (Dominic Hoey is his other name) will take this, when / if he reads this, Tourettes is not so muchs a rapper or hip hop artist as he is he’s a folk musician and poet. At least, I mean, he’s not hip hop not as that term has come to mean in 2011. But, in fact, if you were to look at the original fundamentals of hip hop at it’s earliest incarnations – I think you could make a strong argument, based in those principles, that Tourettes is more hip hop than Kanye West and Jay Z combined.
Tourettes writes honestly and disarmingly; instead of posturing about being the baddest MF-er on the block, he’d rather explore the darker recesses of one’s psyche or admit that he can’t spell lettuce. (Dom suffers from dyslexia). Many of the songs here, on this record, to me at least, are poems more than they are raps – and this is accented by the musical accompaniment. Most obviously, the poem The Phone Is Ringing sits two thirds in and is my personal album favorite. In contrast to the short, succinctness of The Phone – with it’s minimal ringing soundtrack – clearly a spoken word poem – is Sat At The Beach – an opus-like poem punctuated with a dark distant guitar – calmly before a storm of screaming and squawling that’d I’d love to see re-enacted at any poetry recital to fuck shit seriously up. It’s intense.
The album opens with the prelude Tonight – a scene setter, a statement of intent, if you will. It rolls through your speakers with a sense of difficulty; with an awkwardness usually reserved for, well, for those of us who perhaps don’t fit in to things nicely. Tourettes assures us that just because he’s wasted, that doesn’t mean he’s wasting time. So Happy is sonically dark and ominous – with s tinned out synth that pulses over a low guitar fuzz.
Lead single Inside My Head sits centrally on the record; and it really is a perfect example of how smart and clever Tourettes songs are and how skilled an MC he truly is; his flow on these verses is genius-ly conversational; this is rapping so good that it’s unaffected to meet tempo, rhythm or meter – but it’s perfectly on point and beat. And his subject matter so eloquently expressed; smart and funny.
Caspa And Alice clocks in at nearly eight minutes and is a short story in rap form – poetry meets prose meets beats – and, oh my god, Caoimhe Macfefin (Heart Attack Alley, Drab Doo Riffs) sung chorus is like warm satin as it washes into the song only twice.
The unfamiliar listener might be a little surprised by the guest vocal and guitar on World War 3 – Matthew Crawley; but anyone who knows either man will know that they are mutually massive fans of each-others art. Matthew’s voice is wonderfully heartbreaking, warm and fragile.
Every time I listen to Tiger Belly I find a new favorite song – and every song becomes a new favorite at least two-or-three times; I get the sense that this shall continue as I fail to get tired of this record. I love you, Tourettes. (Now let’s all go have group sex). - review by Andrew Tidball
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