Not that they’d ever get away with it, but Feeding Fingers don’t try and shrug off The Cure influences which litter their work. It’s just inevitable and obvious, but it doesn’t actually matter. Once you get past the forlorn vocal similarities, you cannot help but be impressed by how almost adhoc and organically outré the recording is, so that it sounds like the drumming and bass are enjoying an exposed post-punk workout while the chilled keyboards are restful and serene, as the singing agonises, sweetly pained. It’s like Dr Who going back to 1979 determined to spruce things up a bit, and it’s a record I suspect 99% of you will adore. ‘Neverlight’ moves slowly and deliciously around you, gradually winding itself tighter, exquisitely, bravely simple in delivery and as well balanced as the best trios are. ‘She Hides Disease’ flows in an airier manner, the guitar offering sorrowful pleasantries and the vocals all but detaching and floating away on bitter thermals. ‘Baby Teeth’ then escalates the low level sonic hostility by moving in unison, the bass growing adventurous, as the synth rotates and the vocals slap the walls of despair. A stormier ‘Is Heaven All That You Hear’ is equally forthright and yet cautiously beautiful, recurring mini waves of energy turning it into a restless carpet of sound beneath the fading vocals. ‘Permission For Sleep’ breaks up the mood with some agitated synth led sparring and a wild claim about stealing a piece of the criminal mind. (Everyone needs a hobby.) ‘This Isn’t Enough’ also impresses as our host worries about his reputation with clonking piano caresses, discreet percussion and sonorous synth, so it’s all going rather well. ‘Plain Faced Afternoons’ is pretty weird, the drums smacking it out steadily, the synth suspended coldly and the vocals like a crying suicidal gull strung out between them, albeit a gull with shaggy black hair and smeared lipstick. One of those. ‘No Movement In Water’ cunningly maintains upward momentum with more versatile drum movement, the guitar detaches and roves around as a spindly delight, around punchy vocal and pugnacious bass. Lovely. As they close with bewitching organ dominating the shuffling ‘Your Name In A Stolen Book’ you do wonder why they make such wonderful music and don’t iron out these clear similarities so that nobody need appraise their work by making such comparisons. They have it within them to be entirely their own entity, and a fascinating one at that. Can I suggest that at future rehearsals they introduce a Cure Box, with a five dollar fine per outrage? That should temper their devotion and encourage them to stand alone, stand proud, and lead on. A gorgeous record.

Unknown reviewer