Album Review of Now Here Is Nowhere by Secret Machines.

Even the expansive plains of Texas weren't big enough to house the vivid imaginations of Secret Machines. So they've moved to New York City and made a debut album that makes them sound like inhabitants of a colony on the moon. The sheer scope of these multi-textured tracks is overwhelming. Sounds build and shudder, a speeding rhythm takes you unawares, gorgeous Beatles-influenced harmonies offer cosy warmth.

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Secret Machines kick open the doors of Now Here is Nowhere onto a vista so epic and vast, it takes nine minutes to pan across. The drums march a glam army to battle, all sabers and rayguns, the bassline thundering out of heavy Germanic skies. Occasionally a jet tears across, on its way to firebomb someplace previously unrocked. Brandon Curtis narrates some urgent race to the prize, pitting ‘them’ against ‘us’ and announcing the stakes at hand: “Leaves from modern trees / rest on walls like these,” he offers, just before the assault gives its only brief pause.

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