Future of the Left
Travels With Myself and Another (4AD)

It’s probably safe to assume that Future of the Left’s name is meant to be taken as irony. The Welsh band, which features singer-guitarist Andy Falkous and drummer Jack Egglestone (both formerly of the brilliantly rampageous but criminally underrated mclusky), isn’t a particularly political outfit, at least not in the sloganeering, out-to-save-the-world sense.

The music on Travels With Myself and Another is a statement in itself. Relentlessly punishing rhythms are combined with lethal guitar salvos and red-lined synths—played by Falkous and bassist-singer Kelson Mathias—into an anarchic whole best described as post-postpunk. There is a gleeful nihilism here, as exemplified by “Throwing Bricks at Trains”. A jagged thrasher with a tone bone-dry enough to make Steve Albini pitch a tent, the song describes the exploits of one Reginald J. Trottsfield and “his lieutenant, the fearsome Brown”, whose idea of a good time is getting together on bridges overlooking railway tracks and partaking of the titular activity.

A tad extreme, perhaps, but Future of the Left tends to venerate the immoderate, especially if the alternative is the stultifying ennui of the ordinary. If “Drink Nike” is to be believed, Falkous can imagine no worse fate for a man than dying in his bed on a summer’s night when he could make the world more interesting by blowing himself up real good in the town square instead.

Surely Future of the Left is not actually advocating such wanton violence. The point seems to be that doing something is better than doing nothing, an argument echoed in Jason Crock’s assessment of the album on Pitchfork: “Travels With Myself and Another might be the finest soundtrack for slam dancing, fast driving, heavy drinking, or whatever poor decision you make this year.”

The sonics are just as scathing as the words, with “That Damned Fly” bouncing catchily along to a kick-in-the-gut bass line and a guitar hook that sounds almost as cranky as Falkous’s raw-throated ranting. “Stand by Your Manatee” updates spirit-of-’76 punk with riotously pogoing verve, while “I Am Civil Service” funnels a lifetime of vitriol into 2 minutes and 17 seconds of danceable rage that makes the collected works of Death From Above sound like an exercise in twee pop.

Travels won’t be one of the warm-and-fuzziest albums you’ll hear this year, but it might be one of the best.

Download This: “I Am Civil Service”