Album Review: Lines Redacted by Mush

Executing jutting, angular antics with a cutting exactitude akin to luminaries such as Wire and XTC, the Leeds-hailing trio have, over the past twelve-months, eschewed stasis in favour of creative resourcefulness, culminating in two EP releases as well as the material underpinning this second full-length record. The death of founding member Steven Tyson would, however, tragically close out such a prolific year for the band, the late guitarist's technical virtuosity bolstering the appeal behind debut 3D Routine. Similarly graced with his talent, Lines Redacted holds a mirror up to the prevailing socio-political landscape; satirically primed in tackling the defining mistruths and propaganda of the age via Mush 's signature choppiness.

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The truth can be hard to come by these days, but Mush are beyond trying to spell it out for us. Just a year on from their convincing debut mission statement, '3D Routine', the Leeds art-rock trio's witty and politicised rhetoric has wasted little time to resurface, this time addressing institutionalised collusion and the unbated spread of so-called 'fake news' that continues to infect headlines and newsfeeds worldwide. A tightly worded manifesto against misinformation, the band's swift follow-up, 'Lines Redacted' ignores the cotton-wooled pleasantries and preaches straight-talking facts with the sort of unapologetic, piss-taking cynicism specific to the most razor-sharp of British satire.

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Mush's Dan Hyndman savors every syllable. On the Leeds post-punk band's second album, the vocalist and guitarist delivers five-dollar phrases with obvious glee, offering acerbic commentary ripped from international headlines. Songs about Russian bots meddling in elections and drinking bleach to cure COVID-19 could only be written in the present day, but Lines Redacted also serves as a monument to the band's late guitarist Steven Tyson, whose versatile shredding defined their sound.

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Probably the worst part of any form of recovery is the moment when you have to rip that plaster off. Worried you might rip flesh away and cause new wounds; you wince in anticipation of the inevitable waves of pain. Well brace yourselves, because here comes the agonising part. Dan Hyndman's uniquely personal vocals on the second full-length Mush record have adopted a new gimmick, possibly developed as homage to the louche ramblings of Elvis Costello and Stephen Malkmus.

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