People keep telling that Brighton is a hotbed of British musical talent. I can’t say I’m entirely convinced. The little city by the sea should boast all the lovely bohemia of London without the grime. It should be a place for lovers, for real friends. SHRAG should be like peeking a look at a mysterious girl’s diary, sharing her angst; loving her for her rebellion.
I can’t say I’m entirely convinced. Musically ‘Tights in August’ never really lifts off. The tempo begins to circle the drain after a refreshing start, the sound is tainted by what sometimes comes across as petulant ramblings, suffered mostly by a weedy boyfriend who seems to have a sensible answer for everything.
There’s a distinct lack of Matt and Kim charm here. Maybe its aggression is at home with other listeners, but then why stroll a seaside organ through the ordeal?