EP: Tom Branfoot – ‘Bloodsongs’

Tom waits for no one as internal gurning and intestinal yearning run rampant on this five-tracker from floppy-haired fop Tom Branfoot, fittingly for Miles Hunt’s doppelgänger this is five star wonder stuff.

Another rusty nail is hammered into Brexitland’s casket on ‘Post-London Blues’ which details the frustration of Tom having to wait for a bus. “I can’t wait anymore,” he wails as one minute you’re nervously pacing up and down with no destination in sight the next you’re racing up and down with copulation fright. The gush rush hour.

‘I Could Make You Mine’ has it’s anguish exposed for all to witness, especially his ‘lover’. It’s filled with uncertainty with his indecision revealing more than intended, however, if you snooze you invariably lose. Whereas if Depeche Mode building block beats crossed with Bauhaus’ theatrical tantrums are more your thing, ‘Crucified’ has you covered with a goth-sock to the chops.

Surf-wave washes all over the gut-wrenching tale of suffrage in ‘Hungover Heartbroken’. It’s an excellent morning after (or even mourning at her) tear-jerker where OMD meet Crash Test Dummies. There’s a touch of fellow Loiner David Gedge’s (The Wedding Present) quality to the lyrics. Branfoot recounts “left in bed in my favourite shirt … a note on a Tesco receipt”. The minutiae of fleeting flirtations are laid bare.

Emotions dissipate in ‘Neither Of Us Have Anything’. What once seemed fruitful now feels brutal with the harsh kiss-off “I was wasted on you”. A bitter swipe to the left behind.

Words: Kemper Boyd