Since his debut around a year ago with the intriguing “Sissy Spacek”, BLOODY/BATH, the fully DIY music project of Northampton, UK based musician/composer Kailan Price, arises from the depths of an inner malaise into cold depressing songs of loneliness, hopelessness and isolation, deftly combining early modern lo-fi indie rock sensibilities with increasing 80s post-punk/new wave leanings, without ever lacking in The Cure-like angsty melodic quality.
Likewise, the latest single, “Unholy Cross”, definitely less lo-fi than the previous ones with the help of a couple of friends on synth and drums, longs in traumatic memories of fear, regret, and deception, where overwhelming alienation and desolation intersect to form an emotional sonic rollercoaster swaying between urgency and introspection, laced with soothing nostalgic yet brooding tones, teetering on edge of darkness with glimpses of a faraway light.
Propelled by punchy, off-tempo drum beats, profoundly poignant twangy guitar melodies, woven with elastic and sinuous bleak pulsing bass wanderings, climb and then descend, amidst startling wistful tinkling keys, to soar again, swept by icy airy synth swathes, in liberating impassioned vibrations unwinding frantically in their sombre piercing shimmer, whilst deeply distressed male vocals layer terse angry agitation with agonising, hopeless melancholy to fade recklessly into an overpowering mood of desolation.
A symbolic visual journey, directed by Bertie (@bybertie), creates a hypnotic flow of motion where a wooden “Unholy Cross” lurks around every corner. Green pastures, graffiti lined buildings, and a foggy bridge over troubled waters construct an alienating landscape of guilt and shame. A disruptive black screen interlude compels an accelerated time-lapse spin to land in an alternate subconscious reality where a dim-lit pale cross stands powerfully in the mind’s eye of imagination, planting seeds of doubt under every thought and choice.