Music

They’re an interesting bunch, this six- piece. HOTS hail from the hotbed of existential anguish that is Chichester and their name suggests an allegiance originally sworn to emo, although their 2004 debut was a post-rock affair. They landed a major label deal with a demo of ‘Black Dollar Bills’ after first mailing it to Mogwai’s Rock Action imprint (among others) and were discovered by their manager after he read a review of them on Teletext. More sensationally, they were dealt a shocking blow by the suicide of guitarist James Lawrence five months before the release of their much-vaunted debut and had to tour the album while dealing with what must have been cataclysmic emotional fallout.

Painting HOTS as battle-scarred survivors is too easy, but it does fit their profile, since ‘Left’ is littered with references to loss, despair, struggle and – ultimately – triumph. Most obvious are ‘January’ (the month of Lawrence’s death), which has vocalist Sam Herlihy admitting, ‘I fell apart in January, but I fixed myself for everybody/I know tomorrow will be better’ and ‘The Good Fight’, where he assures us that, ‘despite it all, we’re doing all right.’

Confessionalism is now so embedded in anthemic rock (HOTS’ stock in trade) that the idea of ‘revelation’ has become seriously debased, but Herlihy and co do more than simply brandish a bunch of bog-standard signifiers, and there’s a genuinely pissed-off charge to songs such as ‘Blood Meridian’. They’re interested in sonic adventurism – well, as much as any band as enamoured of Keaneplay and Embrace as Radiohead and Sigur Rós can be – as well as The Song, and employ dark, textured glitch, a 24-piece string section and a baking tray accordingly. Listening to the music of HOTS’ aforementioned (less arty and troubled) peers is like being harangued by a kitten in comparison, but they still clearly believe big is best and built ‘Left’ with the stadium in mind. For some strange reason, I can’t hold that against them.