Nineteenth album for Telescopes, Stephen Lawrie's project, which has by now defused its shoegaze and noise impulses in favour of a dark, narcotic psychedelic rock. The static charge (“Static Charge”) evoked by the project's title is in fact the real protagonist of an album that, compared to the controversial predecessor “Halo Moon”, offers a sturdier backbone thanks to the contribution of the band, who recorded the whole project live in the studio.
Telescopes' cathartic psych black mass increasingly draws on blues and gospel, and once again tries to capture the furious energy of their live shows. The result, however, is an all-too-linear minimalism: a hypnotic listlessness that drifts in an abstract limbo, unable to land the killer blow on the listener. Seven mantras for a liturgy that fails to win over new converts.
There's plenty to appreciate. The dark dissonances of "White Noise", reminiscent of Jesus & Mary Chain, are dusty and gloomy in just the right measure, but the album goes on through moments of uncertainty ("28 Grams") and dips in tone ("Revolutionary Blues" and the superfluous "I Dream Of Fever"). These are thankfully offset by the spiritual, off-kilter decadence of "Come Around", and the slowcore pace of "Still Nothing".
What's missing is the jolt that could put Telescopes back among the names that matter, though credit is due to Stephen Lawrie for staying consistent and sufficiently driven. The real redemption comes only in the final, nearly ten minutes of "Desolation Grows": a majestic, melancholy dark flare-up that proves the spark, after all, hasn't quite gone out.
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18/07/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Gianfranco Marmoro, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.