Somewhere between Monasterevin and Melancholy lies The Comstocks, a band from Co. Kildare where this talented quartet make their mark on a music industry flooded with artists and thieves.
I’m always amazed at the amount of music and bands out there, every time I stare into the abyss of submissions for review, it’s almost like someone is playing a joke on me. I’m also amazed how easy it is to find something of value, artistically speaking of course. It happens every time, without fail. The Comstocks stopped me midstream, with their single, 40ft. Droning and plodding and captivating, the single walks the listener through verses of solitude and somberness, then reassurance, capped with pro-level melodic choruses, I mean The Smiths or The Cure type stuff.
Shimmering tones, lush and ethereal in nature, no-nonsense drums, the instrumentation on all of this band’s recordings is refreshing and smart; it’s humanistic, collaborative and replete with expert songwriting. I mean, I bet these guys are all friends or something, they probably even have a room somewhere dedicated to their craft, that kind of nonsense.
At the time of this review, 39 monthly listeners is not going to cut it. There’s a disconnect somewhere and I’m going to do my part, my due diligence. The Comstocks deserve an ear, a follow, a beer, something. Other sonic overlooks? Try London Pleasures, Morning Mourning (the guitar tones and parts on this track are worth admission) or Maybe Ellie. There’s also a great acoustic version of 40ft floating around out there too.
This band knows the importance of visual offerings as well, it really serves their music and is an integral part of their presentation to the world. Simple photography of their milieu and surroundings goes a long way while listening to their tracks. It answers questions and reassures the listener that what you’re listening to: pukka. Google it on your way to Spotify.