Few bands can as confidently claim the term ‘progressive’ as London trio Teeth of the Sea. Surging through early-days post-rock and a subsequent delve into psychedelia (and onto the techno-infused present day), theirs is a path not only less-travelled, but freshly stomped each time. Ostensibly inspired by ghostly apparitions in the studio, Wraith is typical in that regard, and
that regard only.

Erol Alkan-featuring EBM opener I’d Rather is a gripping sprint through clubland excess, while the subsequent title track uses skittish percussion and a meandering trumpet solo to take the new jazz explosion into a new, warped world. From there, things tend to veer and melt a little too readily into the walls. Teeth of the Sea’s reliance on ambience and jazz sonics coming off as slightly less boundary-pushing, given the jazz world’s present youthful vigour. Tracks like Her Wraith glide past without any ado, only the 26-second chaotic loops of Wraiths in the Wall really breaking through the hazy atmospherics. Teeth of the Sea may have always pushed their ideas forward, but when the world around them is now following suit, they need to do better than just keep pace.

Tom Connick