Many things can attract you to a band. Maybe it’s a catchy single, maybe it’s a cool photoshoot, maybe it’s because their name is an amusing spoonerism. In the case of Moni Jitchell, it’s unlikely to be the first two. The Scottish duo make music for a specific kind of person. They make it noisily and they make it with style. With their second album ‘Aware’, they’re also making it with a greater sense of scope. It’s a strange and alluring beast.
Moni Jitchell’s live set-up is stark; A drumkit, twelve strings, two amps, two people, one microphone. That’s basically the sound of ‘Aware’. It’s similar to bands like ’68 or Jamie Lenman’s new record ‘Puke’ or a corrupted version of the White Stripes, where their whole schtick is the interaction between a guitarist and a drummer. Recorded and mixed by Ross McGowan at Glasgow’s Chime Studios and mastered by Matthew Barnhart it captures a raw, textured sound but it might take some getting used to.
Each of the album’s nine songs is built around David Scott’s guitar playing while Grant Donaldson batters his drumkit and yells over the top. It’s an abrasive sound and never feels particularly tuneful but it has a strange, hypnotic quality, and is an interesting contrast to the sound of 2023’s ‘Unreal’. Although the song construction feels similar, the sound is darker, thicker and slightly more evil. It captures a different kind of atmosphere.
Opening track ‘Ask’ smashes through its short runtime, getting things underway with a short, sharp shock. The guitar part saws back and forth but the drums do the hard work as it breathlessly captures your attention. The second track ‘New Table’ introduces one of the album’s most interesting features, the guitar drone. While the tap-tapping drums keep the song flowing, the riffs fall into a kind of holding pattern that makes it feel strangely uneasy. This idea is repeated in interesting ways throughout the album as the guitar riffs often seesaw back and forward giving songs like ‘All To See’ or ‘Hear’ a certain rolling wave/seasickness feel. It’s one of the defining features of the overall sound and proves to be strangely hypnotic.
When discussing their music, the duo make a big deal of David Scott using a twelve-string guitar. Why? Because it seems a strange choice for this type of music. Usually, duos favour the heavier, thicker sound of bassy strings which allow the riffs to battle with the drummer. Here though those extra strings offer more layers and sense of depth. Indeed, the riff on ‘No Offering’ sounds more like a ‘normal’ band and it’s absolutely crushing, telling you a lot about how their music works.
For a band predicated on the sound of two people, that’s not all there is. Although they work within a two person framework on some songs, they add extra instruments and explore different soundscapes. Notably the intoxicating title track ‘Ache’ features a more technical-sounding riff and feels more ‘musical’ than the others. Similarly, the bassy sound of ‘Fault’ gives it a thrilling undercurrent to its spidery riff; the effect is something like a traffic jam, which is much bigger compliment than you might think.
Of course, arriving in 2026, the new album enters a world still bleating on about A.I. music. It’s a strange place. Almost no one has a clue what they are talking about, everyone is at cross purposes and the whole idea that A.I. is making anything is ludicrous. Computer models are not alive. They don’t know anything, they don’t create anything, they just lay down what comes next, statistically. And they get those statistics by ripping of every artist who ever wrote a song. Moni Jitchell are the opposite of A.I. music. They’re the anti-A.I.
One of the album’s defining features is Donaldson’s voice. He’s a shouter, similar to Jeremy Bolm from Touche Amore where the presentation of his voice bares no real relation to what the music is doing. It’s a constant ‘R-ROOAR, R-ROAR’ sound that is more about cadence and expression than style. On the most interesting tracks like ‘Aware’, he tones down the yelling making it less caustic and almost warm. This creates much needed variety and adds a layer of texture to the album as a whole. It’s also striking how the he uses a drawn-out yell to bring ‘Limp Eyes’ and the journey to a close.
No one wants to listen to A.I. music. No one. Relatively ‘normal’ people will use that accursed word ‘filler’ to mean a song that isn’t a big, catchy single. But even that kind of song has an inspiration, hours of work, and choices. Moni Jitchell’s work feels real and dirty and messy. Their second album is darker, more hypnotic and more creative than their debut. If a semi-sentient computer put out ‘Aware’, you’d think it was broken.
IAN KENWORTHY