The Awful Truth

The Nightingales return with ‘The Awful Truth’, a modern mutant music hall interpretation of the day’s news, a haunting jolt into realism narrated with all the angst of an insistent, slightly dishevelled late-night newscaster. Following the widely celebrated Stewart Lee-narrated King Rocker film in 2020, the curtain has finally been raised on the magic of the “long serving punk/alternative rock volunteer” (The Quietus). As pertinent as ever, The Nightingales release a poignant tirade on modern times heralded, quite rightly, as ‘The Awful Truth’.

Opening cut, ‘The New Emperor’s New Clothes’ is an upbeat immersive eruption with a thumping percussive piano holding proceedings in order; think the Velvets meet Fairport Convention in a crowded boozer, still waiting for their man. ‘Same Old Riff’ recalls Bowie’s ‘Queen Bitch’ rekindling the class war struggles and throwing sharp focus on the national unrest in the summer of 2024.

Robert Lloyd’s acidic one-liners trace the collapse of modern society, retaining the harmonious warble of a veteran pub crooner infected with the growl and grouse of The Fall, Nick Cave and at times Beefheart reincarnated.

In the early 80s they enjoyed cult status as darlings of the credible music scene and were championed by John Peel, who said of them – “Their performances will serve to confirm their excellence when we are far enough distanced from the 1980’s to look at the period rationally and other, infinitely better known, bands stand revealed as charlatans.” Their time has indeed come.

The Nightingales are Robert Lloyd, Andreas Schmid (Faust) on bass, Fliss Kitson (Violet Violet) on drums and guitarist, James Smith (Damo Suzuki).

“They genuinely sound more vital than ever.” Uncut