One of the great joys of attending a festival like Green Man is the range of new music that it can throw your way. And in the wondrous age of technical modernity that we live in, you don’t have to wait to stumble across acts when you’re there: you can consult the sacred text, the holy tome of the festival Spotify playlist. This is where I first heard UNIVERSITY and their first (and, at the time, only released song) ‘Can’t Breathe’ which grabs you by the collar with its thumping drums and strained vocals, a Cribs-esque tune with genuine catchiness. Alas, clashes meant I didn’t get to see them at Green Man or even Psych Fest, passing each other by like ships in the night – though I’m sure I heard their tumult across the seas.
It was with great anticipation, then, that I awaited their first full release: the EP TITLE TRACK, which, rather than “dropping”, seems more likely to thunder onto the scene on 3rd November. And the introductory assault on the senses comes in the form of ‘EDY’, a statement of intent as good as any, complete with shrieks, feedback, and horrifying guitar trills spread over a minute and a half. The lead closes the track out with screams of what there should be: “let there be songs”, “drums”, “love”, “embrace”, and even ironically, “peace”. Ironic as there is little peace to be found in TITLE TRACK.
What follows are some more “traditional” songs. They are heavy. They are loud. But that is not to say they have no levels. Each song builds, recedes, and builds again. ‘Egypt Tune’, the second single from this record, starts with a driving guitar riff, adding bass, then drums, until the whole band is thrashing as one, organised in chaos and noise. The melody is incredibly catchy and incredibly head-bangable; there is no doubt it will be responsible for many a stiff neck the length of the nation – or “bangovers” as my friend refers to them. The noise tapers off into an almost prog-rock/shoegaze noodling phase but, just as you’re about to forget the clamour of before, the commotion returns, like being slowly lured under anaesthetic before your innards are torn out. This rise-and-fall throughout the record is really well done and adds the needed levels to something of such substantial sound.
The catchy melodies persist throughout the EP and the synchronicity of the guitar, bass, and drums drive this record forward. ‘King Slim’ continues this theme but adds a series of “oohs” underneath throughout, combining another softer element to the sound. The single from the EP, and arguably my favourite track, ‘Notre Dame Made out of Flesh’ has the nostalgic sound of 90s and 00s angsty teen rock heightened by lyrics like “you walk around me” and “you wanna talk about me… I don’t”. The frustration of these words is emphasised by the emotion of the vocalist, screaming for attention in a world where they get little but then not knowing what to do with it when you do finally get it.
This paradox is at the heart of this record. UNIVERSITY’s press release describes them as “like getting punched in the face by a gorilla but then being cuddled afterwards”. I’ll openly admit that I thought this was a daft description, concocted by try-hards. But as I listened to TITLE TRACK, the more I felt that there is something apt about it. There is a weird, destructive harmony, a discordant unison within the chaos, making genuinely likeable songs out of big, big noises. There is much to enjoy, even if your ears – and neck – need some rest and recuperation afterwards.
Words by Joe Hoare
Picky Bastards 
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