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Interregnum

by Our Lost Infantry

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The farewell full-length from Aldershot, England's progressive indie quintet Our Lost Infantry, "Interregnum" is an absolutely stunning sendoff and every bit as good as the band's masterful debut "The New Art History." With gutsy riffs, fearless choruses, breathtaking harmonies, lyrical gems galore and a penchant to lean post-rock, this fad-free British outfit has harnessed the pure emotional power of all-out rock moments with quieter spells of delicate beauty to deliver a refreshingly potent "expect the unexpected" progressive art-rock masterpiece. Some even say Our Lost Infantry is more of a listening experience than a band. With an uncanny ability to convey hope, love, loss and fear within one almighty holler, they tick all the boxes that ever need ticking. Pushing their limits to create something absolutely pleasing your ears have not yet heard before, every song is as good as the rest and every moment as strong as the last. All encompassing, ever evolving and completely enthralling, this is a band that can do no wrong.

"We've always strived to express ourselves honestly in a way that people would understand. We wrote these new songs with the goal of getting our music into the ears of as many people as possible. We hope that these new songs stay with people. At the end of the day, it’s that connection that matters to us most. So long as one person hears the album and feels a bit better than they would’ve if they hadn’t, then we’ve done our job. The word 'interregnum' refers to the time between two rulers - that is, the time where one person has stepped down or died and the next person has yet to take over. In the context of the album, the personal upheavals that prompted us to change line ups since the release of The New Art History was definitely part of the mix of influences that led to us writing these songs" says bassist Joe Ashworth.

Lead vocalist and guitarist Thom Ashworth adds, "There are a lot of ideas swirling around on this record: that we must never lose sight of how powerful literacy can be to pass ideas between us; how a life’s work is a transitory thing, squashed together into ones and zeros on hard drives; the uneasy feeling associated with the need to have an uncomfortable conversation; faith or the lack of it; the question of whether there’s such a thing as a soulmate; our current surveillance culture; the understanding that when you tear down a curtain there most will likely be nothing behind it; and our incessant need to self-analyze. On a personal level, this record covers a period of huge upheaval for me - yet another time of misrule in my life. As for the artwork, I wanted something that reflected that period between WWI and WWII, when T.S. Eliot was creating his most intense, amazing works. I wanted an image that was not figurative, but that gave you a sense of time and place, and of the particular interregnum that the world was experiencing at that time."

Although a near tragedy for the burgeoning progressive British indie movement, it's rather often that the fun, young lives of band members lead each other in different directions. However, this is hardly the finale for any of these incredibly talented musicians. One of the finest bands to ever grace the Deep Elm roster, Our Lost Infantry will be dearly missed but not soon forgotten. In connection with the release, the band will be playing a final show on July 24 at West End Center in Aldershot, England...a show not to be missed that will be filled with surprises. "I promise, it's the start of a new chapter, not the end of the story. We’re all incredibly close, and are planning other projects together in different combinations. We’d all be lying if we said we weren’t sad about OLI ending. It’s been a huge part of our lives for years and, although we're excited to start other projects, I still wish that we’d had been able in making this huge noise on a stage that was big enough to hold it" says Thom Ashworth. If all the world's indeed a stage, the only two words that come to mind: mission accomplished.

"This needs to be heard to be believed. A successful attempt at reconstructing the status quo. Striking..." - Absolute Punk

OUR LOST INFANTRY is Thom Ashworth (lead vocals / guitar / keyboards), Joe Ashworth (bass / vocals), Matt Phelps (keyboards / vocals), Josh See (guitar) and Stuart Smith (drums / vocals). Mark Rochman played additional guitar. The album was produced by Thom Ashworth (Ramleh/JFK, Annabel Allum, Dragons That Make Love To Pandas) and recorded, mixed and mastered at Opus Studios in Grayshott, Hampshire. Additional mastering by Elliot Vaughan. Artwork by Thom Ashworth. Photo by Matt Phelps. The band has played on the BBC Introducing stage, interviewed and spun on BBC Radio 1 and BBC 6. The band's acclaimed debut "The New Art History" was released on Deep Elm Records in November 2012. Our Lost Infantry has released videos for "All The Streetlights Of My Hometown" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcHOCbkugfY) and "Kenning" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=lE8gDYrGGz8) both by director Jonas Grimeland. The band originally hails from the mean streets of Aldershot, England, approximately 30 miles southwest of London.

Recommended For Fans of: Brand New, Arcade Fire, Grammatics, She Bears

Genre(s): Progressive Post Rock

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released July 24, 2015

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Now with nearly 220 releases in its catalog, fiercely independent Deep Elm Records continues to build a better label - one that operates for glory, not gold. Deep Elm is about bands and fans coming together as one and experiencing music's awesome ability to inspire, comfort and console. We're not just making music together, we're making history. We are proud to be 100% independent for 20 years. ... more

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Track Name: The Dry Salvages
the river burst its banks. and made an island of me. a fall of rain mistaken. for the coming of the sea. as floating gardens flourish. where there once were forest trees. so we're all stretching up on tip toes. for the surface, trying to breathe. will icecaps melt and cover us in snow. four fathoms deep. winter come to keep me warm. while i lay down to sleep. rusty rain to hide my face. give me some relief. my hands are parting, cloudy. in a sky of disbelief. is a rose by any other name still a rose? if you go by any other name, will i still know you? if to be human is to falter. what can perfect ever mean? some nascent thing that man won't give. the time or space to breathe. an image of an idea of. some insubstantial thing. no search for grandeur in the kitchen. when the plates went clattering. just disapproval, wringing hands. shrug of those childhood things. is the blackbird still a blackbird. if you cannot hear it sing? will they wake me once again. at dead of night all chattering. or leave me like a bear to sleep the long days til the spring? is a rose by any other name still a rose? if you go by any other name, will i still know you? did you hear the word? in the beginning there was nothing more. did hear the word? still echoing on and on. is a rose by any other name still a rose? if you go by any other name, will i still know you? if you go ahead and change your face, will i still know you? i could go and fuck up everything, but i still know you
Track Name: Aleph
oh, my mouth is dry. i'm hearing lights again. the odour of pencil on paper. the bass notes that shake through my fingers. the hair on the back of my neck. a-bristle with fatigue. a rictus of overtone series. that burn as i breathe through the memory. keep it down. in the cheap seats. knuckle down. give it elbow grease. keep it down. in the cheap seats. you're grist to the mill. you're standing still. you're a bleak child sat facing the window. make me an island. with the best of men. landlocked in ashtrays and broken pens. biros and dust for my skeleton. as hands like hammers. split my skewed phrenology. stock market symphonies flourishing. cash registers blaring the voluntary. when you were ranged. were ranged in columns before me. i could not speak. my eyes failed. so many misshapen drawings. when you were ranged. were ranged in columns before me. my death by water flowing. though this undiscovered country. read to me tonight, please. won't you read to me tonight, please?
Track Name: Sagrada
i don't wanna live in a world where the words that go unsaid echo in retort. mercies come in short supply. we've raised the bar so high. that nothing is sacred anymore. i don't wanna live in a world where the fear of my failures leaves me paralysed. innocence and guilt will vie. to be my primal drive. but desperation pins me to floor. and i won't go silent. into the dark. sat in my corner. nursing the spark. i don't wanna live in a world with consent held to ransom, in the name of surety. with no law carved in stone. are we ever alone. alone with my thoughts and time. i don't wanna live in a world where the fear of my failures waits beyond the door. surveilled from local space. machines of loving grace. watch over my restless nights. stumbling to keep to the straight and the narrow. breaking our bones just to get to the marrow. all time is slow time, the crawl to tomorrow. if you can get there, tell me, i'll follow
Track Name: Lungs
when all my lines are written. in the creases round my eyes. and the well spring of my patience. has run dry. if rhetoric has left me here. to fight the noble fight alone then. christ, who am i to argue? if there's nothing left to say. why's there breath in my lungs? if there's nothing left to say. who's to say when all is said and done? carve me a man of wood. set me on the sand. carve me a man of wood. teach me to understand. babel is home for one night. we'll be speaking in tongues til dawn. a sentence shared in darkness. to keep us warm. we all speak in a foreign language. we all speak alone. this dream we consent to share. our rosetta stone. a child. for all time. always seen and not heard. a child. for all time. never speaking a word
Track Name: The Enemy's Gate Is Down
we were born in a temple of words. with doorways and windows. and eyeballs and arms. we were born to the toll of the prayer bell. the clanking of crystal. the clicking of tongues. a life's work. doesn't let in the cold. no man should be boarded up. throw open your windows and doors. we were born in a mess of desires. born into bondage. to shore up the walls. we were born on the factory floor. what are words but a warm bed. to lay down our wants? all sound and no fury. dear reader, you've let me down. newsprint the banner: what goes around, comes around. provisionally, i have this secret i've kept inside. i can't tell if i'm the sign or the signified. fin de siecle feeling. markets down. the city reeling. iron will that needs annealing. out of faith. needing healing now
Track Name: New World Time
rolling around in this old house. missing glass from the windows. the gaps in the floorboards. creak an elegant discourse. your mother leans on the door jamb. her eyes are puzzle of bloodshot kindness. and sighs. that run almost liquid. building the ladder. reaching that unseen door. tearing the curtain down. we'll learn what our breath is for. new world time. a mingling of camphor and cordite. hear cliff faces falling from miles away. soft rain playing rudiments. who knows where the time all went. a gale growing outside. dust stirs in the hearth, where the grate once lived. a stone floor. where a young man sits. distant seaboards come alive. an ocean of arms thrown open wide. singing compassion, forgiveness, redemption. the endgame is coming, divine intention. cold in the glare of a million eyes. stars hang upside down in the sky. hand pressed to sternum. you vow that you're burning. but you're clueless as to why
Track Name: Lazarus
nights draw in and i stifle. there's ether in the air. calluses wav on my finger tips. another evening spent biding my time, alone peeking from darkened windows. crowds pass in time lapse to and fro. fallen off of the world, so the story goes. the burden of knowing. christ, you should hear yourself. physician, heal yourself. nights draw in with bloodshot stare. there's panic on the wind. horizons that narrow slowly. leaden with fear between flashing signs. shore up the walls, til i'm paralysed. sequestered away from the prying eyes. the rapture is coming. gather round, trading favourite lines. drinking as light fades on memorial signs. to absent friends, to absent thoughts. to peace in our time, the ending of war. raise a glass to the future we've made. the march of progress, walk unafraid. this ink's putting holes in my hands. the death of my cynicism was never planned. the buzz in my ears has me losing my mind. that i could spend so long being so blind. this is the calm before the storm. take up your bed and walk. this is the calm before the storm. take up your bed and walk