Insect Guide would probably be referred to in some quarters (i.e. the pot-bellied, half-dead, jaded journalistic population of the mainstream media) as a distinctly shoegaze proposition. This irks me (and presumably them) greatly, mainly because it lazily stereotypes them as detached, introspective, and non-confrontational. Sure, with the Insect Guide there’s the androgynous distortion and hard-to-distinguish lyrics which typify this movement, but the name just makes it sound sooooo dull, and that's something that Insect Guide, with their darkly atmospheric layers, and tense, brooding aura, will never, ever be. Plus this is 2010 people. Shoegaze turned and burned twenty years ago with the birth of grunge. Get with the programme.
Insect Guide formed in Leeds in 2005, and immediately honed their unique sound, which is equal parts bizarre and gentle, reflective and disturbing, dark yet shiny, beautiful yet sinister (and other perplexing contradictions). It’s Joy Zipper, but it’s also the Velvet Underground. It’s unmelodic, but it’s also pure pop. By combining such (seemingly oxymoronic) components, Insect Guide navigate the world using a different calibre of coordinates to their peers, and it yields ethereal results. Being the innovators they are, they decided to answer our ten questions with one photo. Oh – and if that wasn’t Stephen Hawkingly brilliant as it is, they’ve stuck a huge, glace cherry on top, with this Lady Gaga cover they’ve provided for your aural demolition.
If all this sound like a good day at the office to you then you’ll be ecstatic to know that Insect Guide's debut LP will be dropping in August. So, enjoy their brilliance, but if I find out that you’ve been staring at your shoes, I’ll lop your balls off with a sharpened (and severely scuffed) winkle-picker.
