The Twilight Sad 'Forget The Night Ahead' (FatCat) Released 05/10/09

Magicians save their best trick for the end. The most valuable present is always opened last. Roast potatoes are spared for the final mouthful of a Sunday lunch. The period of waiting for the finest moment should always be elongated, it's a tried and tested tactic that provides nothing but satisfaction and possibly a longing for more. And so it's a surprise to see The Twilight Sad reciprocating the balance and unleashing the ace card within seconds of their second album, 'Forget The Night Ahead' commencing. It's a terrifying feedback sound, one akin to the second of silence followed by a similar piercing opening on The Smiths' 'The Queen Is Dead'. Just a feedback sound, you say? Well somehow it epitomises just about everything this morbid, frozen album has to offer.

The reason why 'Forget The Night Ahead' is seemingly top heavy is because this very sound, meaninglessly placed anywhere else on the record, would not have nearly as much of an impact. 'The Reflection of The Television' is a pitch black nocturnal opener, restless and twisted, lyrics "There's people downstairs, I'm more than a fighter" adding even more dread to the occasion. And the following track, the bleak and anthemic 'I Became A Prostitute' provides bulk to the top half; made up of pulsing guitars that wouldn't sound out of place on an Interpol record were it not for the all-out passion flung into proceedings by James Graham's vocals and a commanding wall of noise contemporaries Mogwai would be proud of.

It's not as if the album suddenly collapses under the weight of the standard set. In fact the tenacity of 'That Birthday Present', the frustration, defeatism of 'That Room' and the darkest hour, closer 'At The Burnside', these are as good as anything the band have recorded to date. 'Forget The Night Ahead' doesn't lose its step at any point, a precise moment at which you think less of it cannot be pinpointed. Instead it's the overall feeling of the album that lessens its grip after some time, as optimism never sees the light of day. Graham's lyrics, as frightening as they are, bog you down along with the inaudible clamoring of tuneless noise -- opening lines, "And your face is turning hard through the winter. There's nails in our feet" and "Taken all of our mistakes, and we've turned them into an aeroplane. Still, the boy's throwing rocks at my face" just add and add to the ton of depression that gathers.

It becomes an album best saved for apocalypses and mass-funerals. There always comes a time when the appetite returns and you want to immerse yourself in the album once more but a day spent listening to 'Forget The Night Ahead' is a day spent having all remains of happiness absorbed slowly and painfully. And yet, this album is still the most fascinating any Scottish band has produced since 'The Midnight Organ Fight' or 'Mr Beast', it's just a shade paler than it should be.