The Underground Youth a.k.a Craig Dyer presents another psychedelic record from the industrial bowels of Manchester. There’s a sense of 90’s reverence on display without cosying up to outright nostalgia. Mesmerising and texturally rich, Haunted is just that. Out on CD and limited Coke Bottle colour vinyl LP from Fuzz Club.
6/10 Clinton Staff review, 03 September 2015
Prepare your extra long raincoat. Ensure that there is a puddle nearby for the bottom ends to trail through. We have the darkest of early '80's goth rock all on one album so you never have to leave your bedsit and strain against the cold Northern wind ever again. This is comically bleak, guitars terrify, vocals make Peter Murphy sound like Sonia and there's a metronomic never changing drum thump like the final ache of life as it slips away. If anyone has nailed the sound of a particularly bleak and threatening underpass in Manchester in 1983 this lot have. It's unremittingly noir, there's a Dave Gahan quiver to the voice yet when they introduce a threat of a hook (as on 'Haunted') you can't get the damn thing out of your head. Think 'Black Celebration' era Depeche Mode, think 'Disintegration' era the Cure, think Bauhaus playing 'Bela Lugosi's Dead' for the rest of your life.
If that sounds up your particular damp, dark street then this is the perfect moment for when you are lost wandering along a godforsaken carriageway on the outskirts of Burnley as you look up at the foreboding moors as the rain lashes down on your soul.
9/10 The Doc Customer review, 4th May 2016
It's midnight, and the rain is lashing at the windows. Well, alright, it's not midnight and it's not raining, it's actually a sunny springtime afternoon, but that's the vibe you get from listening to this little gem on Fuzz Club. Proof that there's nothing wrong with wearing your influences on your sleeve if you've got the chops to pull it off, this is a great slice of doomy 80s rock with hefty nods in the direction of the Cure and Depeche Mode.
The lyrics are a little off-the-shelf to be fair, and anyone who's ever gone at themselves with a Stanley knife after drinking a bottle of neat Smirnoff as a teenager will probably have written comparable stuff, but it's all delivered in a wonderfully deadpan Ian Curtis baritone and it fits so well with the music that you can let it slide. It's an insidious album in many ways, packed with sly melodies that creep back into your brain when you're not looking, and the lyrics - however duff some of them may appear on first listen - are so simple and effective that you'll be singing along to the whole album after a couple of listens.
Definitely one for long dark nights, but folks of a certain disposition are likely to cherish this one for a long time.
10/10 Robert Smith Customer review, 3rd September 2015
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