Zealous and ever-consuming, the London quartet have manifested their own destiny in this seismic spectacle of emotional desire.
Sandstorms, tornados and rogue outlaws, all the ominous spin-offs the frontier offered to its unsuspecting dwellers. Akin to this capricious existence is the newest weighty instalment from our ballsy clique of desperados, spearheaded by kingpin Louis Antoniou.
Ripped from the archives of the western dime novel, the niceties of Americana have undergone hefty modifications, disembodied by rippling swathes of slinging tremolo and the shrieking decay of rambling reverb tails; a love song has never sounded so beautifully confrontational. Like getting bucked off an unsettled stallion, the nature of this beast is naturally fervid and volatile, bustling and sizzling as it dances provocatively around the periphery of the alternative.
“It was written in lockdown, you can hear the angst and the fury from the band but don’t let the title fool you. Lyrically it’s about chasing the girl and it’s an integral song in the album in my eyes. It’s the first song on the record where the girl gets introduced, and her entrance is like a whirlwind as this song smacks ya in the face with this gnarly riff and sexy lyrics. The song keeps building and rising. There’s shouts, the bass gets heavier, the drums intensify and then this solo section drops in and it’s an explosion of sound! You can’t get away from it, you lose your mind.
If you could forgive my blueish prose, ‘Losing My Mind’ hits harder than a wet f****** sand pit. A wild stampede of cavernous toms and sonorous kicks draws first blood, galloping unapologetically into a dusky cacophony of fizzing bass lines and thick riotous guitar riffs. Administering an instant burst of psych-western serotonin, the visceral four-piece have taken the songwriting calibre of Arctic Monkeys and condensed it down into a salient mesh of hard-hitting indie rock essentials. The end product is a unmitigatedly accomplished record, incandescent with ardor and littered with enough ear candy to satisfy the sweetest of teeth.
To lose one’s mind implies a state of no emotion, where mental capacity is no longer available, and yet this latest instalment offers the other side of the coin. Conciseness is paramount for any radio edit to achieve its absorbing purpose, and in just under 2 and a half minutes, Louis & The Shakes have hit the proverbial nail on the head.