Uranium Willy

If I met Uranium Willy's Mark Johnson, I don't think I'd like him. First off, I don't think I'd understand what the hell he'd be talking about, what with all his weird mystical spookiness and cannibals and dragons and whatnot. But his band's music's something else, if given a third, fourth and fifth listen. It'd be easy to dismiss UW as another bunch of pretentious, overly produced, self-centred art-school wankers (for all I know, they might be), but that would be jumping the gun. Their self-titled debut album - as I understand it, available on mp3 only - is a highly ambitious, daring and provocative piece of work. Johnson's whispered vocals glide over a primeval stew of Moroccan-influenced drum & bass lines and sinister guitar licks; comparisons to the Tea Party are inevitable thematically only. If you substituted the Tea Party's Zeppelin and Doors sound for Portishead and Bowie, but kept the dark and brooding character, you'll find Uranium Willy. If Sauron, Grendel and the Djinn took on humanity, UW would provide the noise of the apocalypse.