Lo-Ego

Why is it so damn difficult to make other people...no, make that yourself, understand why something you've just been a party too, just felt so sweat-ravagingly priveleged to witness could be so VERY special?

Sometimes you could forgive an artist for going through the motions.
I mean, could you be arsed to play to a room of ne'erdowells and pissed up hyperactive students returning from their Christmas sojourn with mummy and daddy on a cold and miserable Thursday night at midnight?

Exactly.
No, you couldn't, so step forward Martin Collins, Stefan Bullivant, Stephen Collins, Gareth Walkner and Jack Atherton.

"One day you'll witness something I've never witnessed" implores the forlorn Martin Collins on 'Innocence Gone' and for the first time this year I find myself agreeing with someone, albeit begrudgingly yet ultimately convincing. A statement so intent, so real, eschewing an element of passion usually reserved for postmen hitting the streets at 6:45 a.m. or employees of Rentokill.

Lo-Ego could almost re-invent themselves as No-Egos judging by their self-depreciating anthems and invite every convert from this congregation to the ceremony. Repent one and all, and that includes even the most holy figures of Matt Bellamy and Jonathan Greenwood, because there are a new bunch of melancholy operatic noise merchants on the scene and they intend to steal your crown.

You don't believe me?
Then check out the congescent mangle of 'Circles' with it's errant literary glissandi or 'Death To Your Lies' and it's focused, insistent request to out the truth and tell me you're not a believer already.