Review: Trojan Horse

It’s a good job I don’t do this for a living. I was asked to review Trojan Horse’s album weeks ago and am only really getting around to it now. But here I am, typing some words. In order to do so, I’ve decided not to go to work- which, coincidently, is where I do make a living.
Like any ne’er do well, I’ve got my excuses. A big stumbling block has been dark associations that the band’s name has in my curiously fragile life. Some time ago, when my over used collection of asphyxi-cuckoldry videos began to feel a bit stale, I set out in search of a new exciting alternative. I delved the recesses of the human condition (feltch-gasketing, HIV bukake, train track bondage etc. etc.), hoping to rediscover that indescribable thrill of the decadence nouveau or, at the very least, achieve something resembling an erection. For those of you unfamiliar with these passions, be advised, the internet is a dangerous place- particularly for your computer. Within minutes of starting my lonesome journey into the wildernesses of perversion, my PC began to show the first tell tale sign of wear and tear- advanced intelligence. The computer began to think for itself, the curser struggling free of my mouse enabled ownership. I watched in horror as it drifted around the screen for a few moments, before opening my online banking account. It then made several large transfers to the Vatican, only stopping when my overdraft had reached it’s limit. The blue screen came next. Efforts to resuscitate the machine had various degrees of success, but all came to the same end- a series of beeps, several error messages and then a crudely made, and unstoppable, Powerpoint presentation outlining the benefits of the Rhythm Method.

Back in the present tense, I’m currently using a borrowed laptop with several keys that stick (see above paragraph), writing a review for a band which, ironically, shares a moniker with the film that killed my computer. In hindsight, I probably should have given that one a miss.

Trojan Horse kicks off with the rather ecstatic ‘Mr Engles Says...’, which nicely charters out the band’s own manifesto. Tight stylistic changes, lush arrangements and catchy choruses abound here- it is clear that a lot of time and effort went into this album and the results, for the most part, reflect this. The Horse take a no holds barred approach songwriting, bouncing between genres regularly without ever feeling forced. It’s a tapestry of familiar sounds, patched together to make a finished product which is unique and interesting. Not an easy feat. There are, however, moments that let the album down- it occasionally ventures in to blander pop territory with tracks like ‘…And the lights went down’ being less than memorable despite some nice flourishes.

Minor flaws are forgiven, as Trojan Horse have created an album which fully showcases their elaborate sonic spectrum. These 10 songs certainly hint at their reputation as one of the more exciting live bands in the Manchester area (an opinion that I whole heartedly endorse). I’m not sure if they’d like me saying this or not, but there’s a very British feel to this LP, kind of like drinking Liberty Cap tea with the Mad Hatter in the pouring rain. By which I mean to say, the album is euphoric and rich, full on and excessive… it’s likely that too much of it could make you feel a bit ill, but there’s only one way to find out. TH make nods to an eclectic mix of bands, ranging from the Beatles to Mastodon, but manage to mould their own sound throughout. The lasting impression that I got from listening to this album was of a band that immensely enjoys making music and sees no reason to pretend otherwise. Hopefully, I’ve burnt down enough churches not to be kicked out of the Burzum fanclub for finding this joyful approach to music refreshing.