1…2…3…4 BANG! You don’t receive much warning before Sugar Horse detonate their first monstrous power chord. It will knock your vision off kilter. Their devastatingly apocalyptic assault hasn’t discovered a sensitive side; the self-deprecating Bristolians have managed to squeeze yet more menace from their poor amps and Ashley Tubb’s vocals reach new points on the Richter scale. You may have stepped into one of Goya’s black paintings and can’t find the exit. To bring harmony to the project – yes harmony – the band set sail in some of the sweetest post-rock landscapes: let Dadcore World Cup nuzzle up alongside you, and then feel the force of A Las Vegas Showgirl to illustrate the two fold grip this group can impose. Just allow ample time for your vision to return afterwards. Sublime.
