fbpx

Album Review : Trampolene – Swansea to Hornsey

A review dropping months after an albums release could be an indicator of my laziness, but I shall use an excuse to argue for the continuing relevance and important of this album. This album is deserving of evaluation after the storm of first-week reviews, after the sycophantic hype-blogs which will suck the air out of its arse simply for being new and relevant, lacking critical evaluation. I have had the chance to digest this album for, about two months? And feel comfortable in my assessments. Though do not fear, pilgrim. My own self-absorbed critical analysis has yielded nothing put positive results.

‘Artwork of Youth’ is a hyper-realistic commentary which opens the album ‘Swansea to Hornsey’ by these prodigal sons.
The poetry isn’t subtle, it isn’t kind, it isn’t even poetic, it is real. Realism is a word I could use to describe each song on the album, it is a very transient theme which grounds this album in the psyche of a begrudging British youth.

‘Imagine something’, is a case-study in the bands ability to self-reflect and craft catchy hooks and creative melodies grounded in Brit-Rock routes. ‘Alcohol Kiss’ kicks up the pace, venerating the lines which Indie and Punk straddle. ‘Dreams so Rich, Life so Poor’ offers more of the same, but highlights the innovation Trampolene are known for.

[amazon_link asins=’B074CPX69R,B071DHJC43,B075KGJ6F7′ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’reygoomus-21′ marketplace=’UK’ link_id=’79ded935-dea4-11e7-8534-af5a8a7179f1′]

‘Ketamine’ may shock some, but when diving into the words you become aware of how convincing of a sophist Jack Jones is. The words could persuade the most hard-edge anti-drug champion to maybe, just maybe, consider taking the horse tranquilizer at least once. On the reverse, you could argue it highlights the drug-addled mind of a user who, despite the negatives, will swear a drug is responsible for saving their lives, rather than admitting to its negative side-effects. A lack of access to the synapse connections of Jack Jones’ brain inhibits my assessments.
The edges of this poem open the gates for ‘You do Nothing for Me’, one of the more derivative tracks on the album, but still holding true to the Trampolene sound which, in my eyes, is unmistakable.



A true hallmark, especially in the over saturated Indie market, is when you hear a band and KNOW who it is. You could pick them out in a bar if they were played. “Fucking yes, I love Trampolene” would be uttered 30 seconds into ‘Primrose Hill – 5th September”. A lot of their contemporaries fail to distinguish themselves from an over-eager hoard of 2007 shadows. Trampolene are very much in 2017 and are very much themselves.
For this alone, they are worth a listen. For this alone, they are worth adoration. But don’t take my word for it, listen to ‘Beautiful Pain’, ‘Blue Balls & a Broken Heart’ and see for yourself the unique individuality that this band offers in a sea of mediocrity.