It’s dark, muddy even, but in all this black noise and grey matter, it still feels soft and sheltering. It’s killing you, but only softly. Dark, indeed. And nope, it is not the Velvet Underground engendering this nightmare. Not this time.

Another band has taken their place in this instance, and are proving to be rather good at conjuring up blackness. This lot is Los Angeles’ Warlocks, a skuzzy, distorted and unfussy quintet, purveying bleary-eyed rock ‘n’ roll. With them, every melody is shrouded in an anti-melody, lyrics wrapped up in codes, but the music is far from uninviting. In a sense, it’s the rawness that entices, lures you in, pounces on you.
The Warlocks began nearly a decade ago, founded around the songwriting of Bobby Hecksher. They call Los Angeles home, and one of their more important influences. Now increased to five members, including John Christian Rees and Ryan McBride on guitar, Jana Suzanne Risher on bass and Bob Mustachio on drums, The Warlocks are one of the most forward thinking bands around.

The group are now on album number five, a record entitled The Mirror Explodes – easily the band’s most consistent. And it practices what it preaches. Shards of sounds pierce through right angles, ripping any pop sensibilities apart in the process. It’s bleak, brutal and absolutely bloody brilliant.

This, unabashedly, is both The Mirror Explodes, and The Warlocks’ aesthetic in general. “The album is based on a fear of hospitals and being sick,” explains Hecksher, no doubt making his record label PRs weep in the process. “It’s that sense of being used, replaced and thrown away - so gloom and doom, I’m afraid. It seems that such a scenario, getting ill, was happening to me all the time. And when I was writing, I was simply tired. I think I’m much better these days, even I don’t really know why. Stress, over touring and working can drive anyone bonkers. Plus, we were constantly in foreign countries with no real access to a medical staff. As far as putting that in the studio well, that came out in whichever way it was meant to.”

The album has uniquely split the critics. The venerable but increasingly redundant Pitchfork gave it a paltry 3.4/10, a definite failure, as it accused The Mirror Explodes of being a poor attempt at mimicking, yes, the Velvet Underground. Yet other sites and magazines felt differently, awarding it a much higher score [our very own Charlotte gave it four stars in issue 48]. All this, to Hecksher, is irrelevant. Five albums and nearly a decade into their career, The Warlocks is a finely tuned beast, one that functions both within and aside from the gaze of critics.

“I did read a few,” reveals Hecksher of the reviews. “But I really, really try not to read the stuff. It hampers your soul. Everyone’s a critic and everyone loves to pan The Warlocks. It’s like some weird hobby for them. Saying that, I never think there is enough time to record, and I felt that here too. I always wished I had more time every record, I guess. The hardest thing was getting the older songs right. I’m trying to capture a memory of sound not anywhere else but in my head from seven years ago. For example, ‘Red Camera’ took an entire day just to track, and I’ve gone back to that song over and over knowing it was something great but just never got it right. Finally, seven years after it was written, it’s what it is suppose to sound like.”

Still, the main component captured universally is The Warlocks’ relationship with sadness, and suffice to say, it’s a strong one. This is never a happy record, as nails claw through every melody, whether it’s the depleted hope of ‘There Is A Formula To Your Despair’ or the scoured and scrubbed-out rock gasping for air in the aforementioned ‘Red Camera’. Never does the band even attempt a smile, as black and grey are the only colours approached, albeit done through a variety of shadings, tones and abnormalities.

“Yeah the world sucks, what can I say,” muses Hecksher. “I hate saying that, but [I do try] to be positive person. I go out interact with people, try to just needle through and make it work, but I’m constantly flagged down by the hassles of life. Just going to get some pizza today felt like a complete waste of time. It feels like I always run into hustles, you know? I just wish I could turn down the noise sometimes and get back to writing.”

But herein lies the beauty of The Mirror Explodes. It’s an album that reveals the deep sensitivity inherent in The Warlocks, and how it, like all of us, is a cracked façade. It may be sad, but it’s far from suicidal. Instead, the sadness is a way to express one’s lust for life, be it through snakes, ladders, mirrors, fog and fuzz. “Sometimes I can see how people find our music unsettling,” adds Hecksher – showing, perhaps, a gift for stating the obvious. “Maybe that’s a strong description for it. That doesn’t mean it is supposed to be that way, but I can certainly understand it as a theme.”

And live? Well, that’s another matter entirely. Expect a fair bit of drone, dirt, scuzz and distortion when the band play two dates in London this month. The band often, unsurprisingly, wear black, and, devoid of any pomp or circumstance, just get up and play - simple as that. The interaction is found in the distortion, the guttural noise. At a show like this, time stands still, hairs on necks are raised and ears are pummeled. It’s part post-rock, part gong show and part noise experiment, and – if you can believe it amidst all the death and despair – a lot of fun.

“To me, seeing us live is like seeing a peacock up close,” says Hecksher. “I hope that explains what to expect.”
Maybe. With a band like The Warlocks, you’re best off going down and finding out for yourself.