With his wavering, cracked-mirror warble, Black Foxxes frontman Mark Holley is the perfect post-everything frontman, a guy constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown who just wants to get through the night in one piece. Granted, a near-constant crisis of confidence isn’t always the best character trait for a rock’n’roll singer, but this Devon power(ish) trio make it work on their solid debut album.
While they never really sound brand-new, Black Foxxes aren’t well-worn either. They exist in a sort of blinking twilight world somewhere between murky 90s alt.rock and whatever comes next. It trembles, it bleeds, it plays to the back of the arena while staring intently at the floor. Singles Husk and the title track give up the game pretty early – this is a mud-ride of delicate depression-pop that feels like the album Dinosaur Jr. would have made if J Mascis quit his anxiety meds cold-turkey.
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