Last year, something stirred over Salford. A popic beast set free from sonic slumber, Learning How To Swim seemingly surfaced from nowhere. Little was known about the song’s origins; it could easily have been unearthed as a 90s west-coast, indie-rock artefact. Rumours began to circulate and whispers of the name ‘Chew Magna’ worked their way around the city. Apparently, a few well-known faces from Manchester’s dynamic underground music scene had come together to create a melodic commotion which could be heard bleeding into the still night air around Strangeways.
It was just the start of things to come; the advocates of noise and self-confessed ‘jam band’ were simply territory-marking whilst concocting their blistering debut EP, The White Hotel. “There isn’t a plan or well worked-out approach,’ tells Chew Magna guitarist Simon of the band’s spontaneity. ‘We’re at our best bouncing ideas around and seeing what happens.’ The band’s vocalist and guitarist Laurie affirms; ‘we’ll play the same part for ages, developing it slowly. Chew Magna has a motion of its own, all we have to do is turn up to practice; the songs write themselves.’
Understanding better than anyone, after leaving their former musical outfits behind, Chew Magna know options are better left open. Just as one piece of music ends, another must begin and as with the EP’s angular, zig-zagging tempo of Nailing Jellyish to the Wall which alludes to that famous extract from Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and Sartre’s writings about bad faith, each track is astutely forward-facing and represents what happens when all of life’s available paths are laid out before you.
Recorded in Salford’s own The White Hotel with Magna members Simon and Laurie plus drummer Ben and bassist Joel the band’s sound ricochets off the painted brickwork of the former auto-repairs workshop with decibel-destroying fuzz. Chew Magna may doff their DMs to Sonic Youth, Fugazi, Smashing Pumpkins and Pavement, yet never stray from being as entirely and originally on-point as Protomartyr, Ought and Parquet Courts – even though the band will freely admit to an occasional dunk of their sleeves in the sound of their idols. “Preserve The Servants is a pun on the Nirvana song and love letter to Kurt Cobain,’ offers Laurie. ‘The riff and melody are SO Nirvana I thought let’s write it about Kurt, in heaven, playing poker with Sinatra, chess with Kafka and eating lunch with Sartre!’
Tracked as live and mixed with underground Salford label SWAYS producer Martin Hurley (Ghost Outfit), the EP is bolstered by the raw style of his work with grunge-go-to sound engineer Steve Albini and captures the immediacy of the band’s favourite records In Utero, Goat (The Jesus Lizard) and Yank Crime (Drive Like Jehu). ‘I think we’ve all slaved over recordings in former bands,’ Simon recalls, ‘there’s something more satisfying in listening back to collection of live recordings that really comes together – and quickly – than pouring over them until you hate the songs.’
