Humour - Learning Greek

‘Learning Greek’ opens with the most almighty bludgeoning affair, where the post-hardcore, mosh-pit-triggering tirade that is ‘Neighbours’ finds Humour telling a rather gloomy tale - that of our protagonist in a paranoia-induced state, believing that malevolent beings are out to get them. This debut sees the Glasgow outfit departing somewhat from their early art-punk, hinting at more crossover appeal. It’s an album that features some of its most interesting works in its latter half - the caustic post-punk of ‘I Knew We Would Talk’, for example, or ‘Aphid’, which meanders between grunge, motorik goth-rock and noise, with sinister sci-fi stylings. ‘Memorial’, meanwhile, flirts with pop-punk to be the kind of pint-spiller that wouldn’t be lost on a Tony Hawk soundtrack. These same scuzzed-out stylings also dominate ‘Plagiarist’, which coalesces somewhere between the surf-rock influenced sounds of Weezer and Pixies. The stand-out, though, comes courtesy of ‘I Only Have Eyes’; a track which encapsulates the outfit’s dynamism, it intertwines jangly, ethereal dream-pop with Andreas Christodoulidis’ colossal gnarl to find Humour at their best. A solid first LP that aims for dive bars and festival fields alike.