In a world that increasingly resembles an algorithmic parody of itself, MLEKO might be the primal antidote we need.
There’s a distinct turbulence frothing in Manchester. Not the sideways forever-rain or the static hum of a post-industrial hangover, but something stranger, lither, and more evasive. Enter MLEKO: a seven-piece. They twist, howl, and hold you over the edge with ever-so-slightly clammy hands. Beauty crosscut with beast and a side of sincerity… lathered in levity.
The band — Ed Whirledge (vocals/guitar), Rory Baker (guitar), Tom Houston (sax), Charlotte Nuta (trumpet), Myron Endean (bass), Ioan Saul (drums), and Bruno Evans (guitar/synth) — describe their sound as ‘Gub Rock’, which, like all good made-up genres, is more of a shrug than a statement: “Gub Rock? – Who knows what kind of rock we make? It’s been termed post-punk, art rock, post-rock, alt rock, prog rock, to the point where we are just as lost as everyone else.” Call them art-punk, call them post-everything, call them metalified neo-folk noise wizards with a brass fetish. MLEKO is an articulate goliath that keeps it weird, beautiful and joyous.
The murky, semi-apocalyptic bass line of ‘Gub Rock’ drives the track with an uncanny unease while Whirledge calmly orates: “As I tie myself to rocks and fill my pockets full of gravel.” It’s a statement of doomed intent that lathers itself in layers of malignant toplines before combusting into a chorus of brass blasts and throat-shredding vocals. The quiet-loud dynamics push and pull the ear with the dissonance of beauty and violence, sincerity and sarcasm, collapse and uplift.
MLEKO play to a sold-out Castle Hotel in Manchester tomorrow night.
Gub Rock out now.
