(Sacred Bones)
The Manchester/Berlin band’s second album refines their industrial-club sound, as physical and hyper-detailed as being dragged under by a wave and admiring the flotsam
Mandy, Indiana are not a band inclined to make life easy for themselves. They wanted to record their debut album, 2023’s I’ve Seen a Way, in a Peak District cave known as the Devil’s Arse, although budget restrictions meant they had to settle for one day in Somerset’s Wookey Hole caverns. The Manchester/Berlin-based four-piece’s new album, Urgh, was written in what they’ve called “an intense residency at an eerie studio house” near Leeds; at the time, singer Valentine Caulfield and drummer Alex Macdougall were both undergoing multiple rounds of surgery. Given the industrial, siren-like intensity of their music, in which Caulfield chants about personal and societal horrors in her native French, impounding themselves in such a place might have seemed unnecessarily masochistic.
Mandy, Indiana seem to feel a moral imperative to embrace extremes. Caulfield has often reiterated her (accurate) stance that “if you’re not angry, then you’re not paying attention”; her incantatory lyrics to new song Dodecahedron indict complacency in the face of a burning world. Given the grievous state of things, the band’s short-circuiting assault may hold about as much appeal for some listeners as sticking your fingers in a live socket – but for those inclined to catharsis, they also fully understand the imperative to push beyond merely observing injustice to viscerally embody its head-spinning force. Otherwise, what’s the point?
