Album Review: Boston Manor - 'Datura'
On the cusp of embarking on a massive UK/EU tour with Canadian heavyweights Alexisonfire, and less than a year after releasing the beautiful, if painfully brief, ‘Desperate Times, Desperate Pleasures’, Boston Manor have just released the fantastic Datura — a gritty, atmospheric concept album that tackles the loneliness and darkness of a noir, neon-strobed night on which dusk has fallen, along with the shadowy danger and paranoia that comes with it.
First, there was 2016’s Be Nothing — an emo fuelled, rock-punk ferocity. Then, 2018’s Welcome To The Neighbourhood — oppressive and polished to a tight, anthemic sheen. 2020’s Glue came next — exhilarating and chaotic in equal measures, with the occasional breather thrown on for fun. Desperate Times, Desperate Pleasures, meanwhile, felt like a hidden gem; somewhat of a surprise, the fantastic EP felt almost like a stop gap to help tide everyone over until the next release.
And that next release is here.
Titled Datura — a poisonous, hallucinogenic flower that only blooms at night, so basically the perfect name for an almost dystopian night — the album has everything you’ve come to expect from the Blackpool lads. Opening with the title track, ‘Datura (dusk)’, some electronic ambience gives way to a soulful, almost broken Henry Cox singing gently over the musical equivalent of a street in ruins; a very cinematic opening, one only made stronger as the instrumentals begin to build.
Basically, it’s a fantastic opener that truly sets the scene — one ready for the introspective anger of Floodlights In The Square. Moments of nu-metal-esque electronic distortion give way to sirens and breakdowns, both mentally and musically, as what started as smoulders quickly grow into a roaring flame.
No quenching in sight quite yet, however; the vitriolic catchiness of Foxglove leaves you both enraged and disoriented, while the insanely catchy Passenger would look as at home in a nightclub as it would being blasted from the windows of a car roaring down the motorway at 4am, leaving you breathless.
And then there’s Crocus — interestingly, the third flower on the track listing. Perhaps the band have developed some fascination with botany, or perhaps they’re a nod to the album existing as part one of two; part two, as the band alleges, is one a little more concerned with solace, so the idea of flowers — two toxic, one almost hiding underground for most of its life — would fit right in. Only time will tell.
Right off the bat, the only way to describe the track is menacing, both lyrically and from the sheer breadth of heavy synths and explosive guitar; slow and thoughtful, almost inexorably thumping closer and closer to the incendiary, almost revolutionary-in-tone chorus, before fading to nothing... or at least, fading to the pitter patter of rain from interlude Shelter From The Rain. Having both an intro track AND an interlude on a seven track album seems insane, but then this is a rock album — since when has being traditional been the priority? — and anyway, Datura still isn’t finished. We’ve still got the contemplative love song of Inertia, Boston Manor’s take on the gentle ballad and a spot of relative calm to end on. There’s an apology hidden in there somewhere, as well as a message of hope for the future — but there’s also some electronic warbling, some cybernetic bursts of static that give way to bird song; the duality of being glued to technology and the freeing flight of life perhaps? An interesting thought, and the gentle warbling helps close the album on a positive note, as dawn arises — if still a cliffhanger for what’s still to come.
It’s an interesting album. Some of the catchiest tunes blend with some of the darkest, with a lovely ballad to round it off; yet it seems like a good half of the runtime is taken up by silence, static and the sounds of life. A great choice for making a concept album, but perhaps a choice leant slightly too heavily into given the relatively brief runtime. Definitely worth a listen, in order and in a single sitting, and its existence is in and of itself an exciting tease for the next album, leaving you already impatiently tapping your foot and checking your watch for the next one — a great marketing strategy for the next release, but perhaps not the ideal takeaway from the current one.
Still. Each and every ‘main’ track is well worth its weight in seconds, and, although the UK/EU Alexisonfire tour is bound to be amazing — and there are still tickets left, if the line-up hadn’t already convinced you prior to the album drop — a full headline tour can’t come soon enough.
Words by James O’Sullivan
