Song: The Dawdler – Crocodile review

By Phil Scarisbrick

Reverb-drenched vocals bristle throughout the latest single from The Dawdler. The lyrics they convey are a channelled dream about ‘a game of chess with a crocodile that develops into a terrifying chase with muderous intentions.’ On the surface, this premise could sit anywhere between Edgar Allen Poe horror and Roald Dahl playful adventure. The atmosphere created by the music, though, leads us down a different avenue. The bright, picked guitar and swelling synths build with sparse, yet booming percussion. This combined John Edgar’s flawless falsetto – with other layers of voice jumping in – creates a feeling of profound jeopardy. Like speeding down a motorway in the middle of the night, a raging rain shower drenching your windscreen while tiredness threatens to engulf you.

Edgar sees the track as being something more, as his subconscious trying to make sense of the world as it stands with ‘the rise of fascism and anxiety inducing polarisation of the socio-political landscape.’ The lyrics give a binary choice of how to proceed, either ‘face the fears head on and fight, or to somehow retreat into the solar system – dancing with the moon and sleeping on Saturn’s rings.’

Following Lava Lamps, this latest taster from the forthcoming EP, Sign Of Growth, is probably the most engaging yet. In less than four minutes we seem to get through a three act play that will move you in more than one way. An unanchored journey that will seduce you with its aesthetics, but leave you feeling totally lost with its words. A stunning achievement.

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