Liines. It’s their fault. Let me explain.
While I was away, getting on with ‘real life’, I managed to let discovering new music slip down my priority list. It’s not that I didn’t bother at all, but I became pretty much reliant on the one source that I said I wasn’t going to dip into: Spotify. I tripped up, and fell into the algorithm-shaped hole of the ‘Release Radar’ playlist. That, and BBC 6 Music basically became me set for new recommendations. My music buying has dropped off to a mere dribble of vinyl deliveries. It’s just not enough, and it’s just not on. And the wake up came in the form of Liines.
My 2018 best of list is now officially wrong. I missed an absolute peach of an album. An album propelled forward by a vocal performance which wouldn’t just strip paint, it could wreck structural walls. An album of ferocious beauty, that almost physically reaches out and turns the volume up itself. An album of ruthless efficiency, clocking in around the 30-minute mark, and being all the better for it. It is truly awesome.
Yep, Liines are proper ‘new favourite band’ territory. A Manchester-based three-piece (or, at least they were when the album was recorded, one member has recently departed), sounding for all the world like Sleater-Kinney if they knew their way around Ancoats instead of Washington State.
Spotify never joined the dots. There was no recommendation. Twitter is what I have to thank. Or, more specifically, Sleaford Mods for having Liines as their support act for a UK tour, and talking effusively about Liines on Twitter.
From here on in, I’m making a vow: I’m going to try harder. I can’t miss the likes of Liines again.