Errors

During the months leading up to the release of Errors‘ third album, Have Some Faith in Magic, most of the anticipation has focused on the Glaswegian quartet’s reportedly non-instrumental pop shift. However, the notion that Errors have now “gone pop” is a disservice to the band.
For starters, pop tends to be a disparaging statement over a perceived transition towards accessibility. Besides, there has always been something immediately appealing behind Errors’ synth-based, genre-blending experiments, and it’s now more true than ever. With all its pomp and urgency, opener “Tusk” wages what could be the final battle between prog and disco in outer space, shimmering guitar riffs warring with warm, vintage synth textures over how the future will sound.

Vocals do play a significant role throughout the album, but in post-rock tradition, they are largely another instrument in the mix. Rather than a source of catchy choruses, vocals bring a Gregorian-esque chant to tracks such as “Earthscore” and “Blank Media”. Lead single “Magna Encarta” seamlessly grooves between the floaty and the rave-y for over six minutes, as echoed wailing takes charge. Finale “Holus Bolus” brings every element of Have Some Faith in Magic together and unleashes them for a climax as powerful as any traditional post-rock great.

Have Some Faith in Magic will not be spawning the next crossover hit, but it’s still a pop record in the feeling and influence it evokes. Although Errors are signed to Mogwai’s Rock Action label, their post-rock stylings are completely their own. Like Nisennenmondai and Battles, their approach to math rock is irresistibly danceable, and this side of Errors is complemented by electronics that are more akin to Warp Records than either post-rock or typical rave-friendly electro. The ambitious Have Some Faith in Magic marks the full realization of the Errors sound.

Essential Tracks: “Tusk”, “Magna Encarta”, and “Holus Bolus” - Consequence of Sound

Errors: Have Some Faith In Magic
By David Smith 5 April 2012

There was once a belief that, at some point in the future, there’ll be no songs left to write. Both sceptics and theorists believed that, at some point around the end of the 20th century (for it was the sceptics and theorists of the 1970s that believed this), we’ll simply run out of new songs. This is a somewhat bizarre idea, considering that despite there only being a limited number of chords, and, thusly, a limited number of chord sequence combinations available, music and music composition has been with us for hundreds of years – and has shown no signs of ceasing to evolve. Which brings us on to Errors. Back in the 1970s, Kraftwerk – maybe aware that music was coming to an imminent, creative terminus, began using recently-invented sythensisers and computers to write and make music. It was a turning point for music – and here we are, 30-odd years down the line, and Errors are doing the same thing – and continuing to break ground.

Have Some Faith In Magic, their third long-player, is a melting pot of ideas, developments and experimentation that actually comes off sounding more measured, more accomplished – and ultimately much more listenable – than either of their previous efforts. It’s found that mid-way point between indulgent perfectionism and euphoric-pop sensibilities. Repetitive synth and guitar lines, echoed, minimal vocals and computer-generated trickery in abundance, it’s a neon sign that points to bright, future places for music. That’s not to say it’s without its musical lynchpins from the not-too-distant past. After the bad 1980s film theme-aping (honestly, that’s not actually a bad thing) of opener “Tusk”, “Blank Media” is the stuff of New Romantics gone cyber-synth with chillwave-levels of reflectiveness. There’s “Cloud Wave”, which echoes Metronomy but with added guitars and moody Ninetendo-style bleeps and chugs. And then there’s “Magna Encarta”‘s debt to Mogwai. Ah yes, Mogwai. Errors’ label bosses and fellow furrowers of forward-looking musical experimentation, their influence is actually all over Have Some Faith In Magic; Errors, however, have taken the blueprint laid out over the last 15 years by Mogwai, moulded it, played around with it, and finally melted it down it something more delicate, more lush, more – dare we say – tuneful.

And that’s what makes Have Some Faith In Magic a winner. Yes, there’s experimentation, yes, it takes some listening to, but once those melodies start making sense in your head, boy does this album become one to stick with. It does have its weak points – “Pleasure Palaces”’ heavy synth-encrusted dance beat undoes the groundwork of opening trio “Tusk”, “Magna Encarta” and “Blank Media” slightly – but overall, Errors have created a suite of beautiful soundscapes that shows they’ve upped their game from their previous work. So – no songs left to write? Well, it’s taken three albums for Errors to perfect their sound. Have Some Faith In Magic hints that there’s much more exciting stuff to come, from not only the progression of music, but from Errors.

7/10 - Popmatters

Errors
Have Some Faith in Magic

Release Date: January 30, 2012
Label: Rock Action Records

7.5
Reviewed: Feb 14th 2012 ·

When it comes to OG status in a stratified zone like post-rock, it doesn’t get much colder than being signed to Mogwai’s label. The fellow Scotland four-piece Errors are responsible for a couple well-liked electro-brushed post-rock records with a bright, danceable demeanor. Unlike their labelheads, Errors have always seemed willing to make colorful, pretty things – floaty, low-stakes dance-rock. In a world of Explosions in the Sky, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and (yeah) Mogwai, it’s a mighty noticeable difference.

So Have Some Faith in Magic is a departure then. In the sense that it only moves Errors further from the center of the post-rock game. A wider berth of crystal-strewn synths, fuzzy, soda-pop atmopsherics, and even a serving of obfuscated vocals – it may not be the most powerful music in the world, but there’s no doubt that Errors are the sole-proprietor of this sort of mystic, carefree pop.

The best songs they build come when they get out of their own way. “Barton Spring” forms around a submerged, metallic clank – the reflective keys and choral vocals filling in all the gaps. The emptied “Canon” is a pensive interlude, doleful basstones touching base with moody wooden percussion, worthy proof that it isn’t all just hedonism. But the best thing here is still probably “Pleasure Palaces,” at six minutes it might be the purest pop song Errors have ever composed; a polychromatic keyboard fizzle arpeggiating over a Balearic winter wonderland. It’s rich, it’s composed, but it’s mainly just beauty – a perfect encapsulation of what Errors can do for a field whose primary acts favor a furrowed brow.

There are moments where Magic reflects the same sort of otherworldly magic that the earnestness of classic Super Nintendo soundtracks did. Sure the stripped-down synthisizers help, and I’m not claiming that Errors have a prehistory playing a lot of Chrono Trigger, but the clear-eyed chemistry hits the same charm. Or at least it mostly does. There’s a lot of stuff in between the highs that, while still nurturing the same great sounds, leave the song structure by the wayside. As it stands they make a great foundation setting up the big moments, but it unfortunately makes Magic a bit of a passive listen.

But honestly, you get the sense that passive might be what they’re going for. Errors have built a subdued and often gorgeous album with very little that needs deciphering. Sure you can’t call it seminal, but Errors’ egalitarianism is pretty damn lovable. - Prefix

‘Pop’ is not a dirty word, despite what some of you may think. It has connotations of music that is flimsy, throwaway and easily-discarded; but on the flip side there is the notion that ‘pop’ music is the most immediate and accessible form of music there is. In that respect, then, the third album from Glasgow’s Errors is a ‘pop’ album. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming, however there has always been an element of immediacy about the group’s music. On 2010's Come Down With Me, there were plenty of moments that hinted at the eventual shift in sound. Last year’s “Magna Encarta” single, too, was a clear statement of intent. Released in April of last year, back then it sounded like the best thing they had ever done, but, as it turns out, it was only the tip of the iceberg.
It shows up on Have Some Faith in Magic as the second song, and is very well-placed indeed. It helps to ease the listener into the album, and will be familiar to fans at this stage, but the context into which it’s placed helps it to flourish. It comes after “Tusk”; a song which will no doubt raise a number of eyebrows. Like all of the songs which follow it, it wears its pop credentials on its sleeve, packing an impressive amount of hooks into four-and-a-half minutes and showing that the band have moved away from post-electro into something else entirely. To call their third album ‘post-electro-pop’ would be only half-right; it’s immediate, yes, but there’s also so much more depth to it than one would expect.
On initial listens to this album, I was under the impression that it peaked only three songs in with “Blank Media,” an ideal future single; the one song on the album which encapsulates the spirit of Errors Mk. 3. It’s wonderfully uplifting: a technically accomplished pop song which displays how far they have come since the days of It’s Not Something But it is Like Whatever. Most bands would struggle to maintain momentum after a song like that, but that is one error that is not present on Have Some Faith in Magic. From there, it is straight into lead single “Pleasure Palaces.” Releasing a song like that as a single shows that the band are supremely confident; it’s in the ballpark of six-and-a-half-minutes, but manages not to outstay its welcome, piling on hooks and unshakeable melodies until it grinds to a halt.
As usual, there is an impressive amount of layers evident in each song on the album; even “Canon,” a two-minute interlude, has plenty of ideas stuffed into it. Six songs on Have Some Faith in Magic are more than five minutes long, but not once does it feel like it, because the album gets so much done. There’s also some use of vocals, but they never seem intrusive – the focus remains on what goes on around them, and in truth they are more like another instrument than anything else; for instance, on “Cloud Chamber” they actually sound as much like a synth as the actual synths! They serve their purpose, however, and show that Errors aren’t afraid to take risks. They have produced an impressive album, one which reveals as much on its tenth listen as on its first – I should know, I’m still discovering new elements even now. Is it immediate? Sure, more than anything else they’ve written so far. Is it poppy? You bet. Is there something magical about it? Absolutely.

76% - Beats Per Minute

Who knew that sorcery and Scottish landscape-inspired electronica would combine so well? Print edition only

4/5 - Q

A gorgeous and strangely spacey conflagration between the pastel end of '70s prog, the Kosmiche end of funk and '90s dance. Print edition only

4/5 - Mojo

Where lo-fi punk crashes headlong into visceral electronica you’ll find Glasgow quartet Errors. Abum number three finds them as thrillingly wired as ever. Opener ‘Tusk’ exemplifies the taut energy contained in the ten tracks, the tumbling rhythms matched by clean synth lines, its melody executed as neatly as a Fred Astaire pirouette. Such brilliance is sustained for the remainder of the record. And, whilst songs like ‘Blank Media’ and ‘The Knock’ – with their trance-like chords and hazy vocals – might indicate a more subdued mood than on previous releases, the hybridised sound of ‘Pleasure Palaces’, with its vibrant electro house groove, spectral voice and flamboyant beats, proves they can still be thrillingly disorientating. Reminiscent of Animal Collective, ‘Earthscore’, creates a fuzzy bath of twinkling effects and fluttering rhythms, before the sedative drift of ‘Cloud Chamber’ and, finally, the multi-layered digital epiphany of ‘Holus-Bolus’. All told, with Have Some Faith In Magic, Errors have delivered the uniformly excellent album they’ve always threatened. Francis Jones

8/10

KEY TRACKS: ‘TUSK’, ‘MAGNA ENCARTA’, ‘PLEASURE PALACES’.
FOR FANS OF: FOALS, HOLY FUCK, CARIBOU. - AU Magazine

A bittersweet yet upbeat opening track unfurls like an exotic Asian flower, or the soundtrack to a forgotten noirish Manga. Things continue in this ‘Bowie-does-Bladerunner’ vein for the Glasgow quartet before the thrilling introduction of vocals on the distorted ‘Magna Encarta’, all woozy melody over taut electronics and even tighter drumming.

These new vocals function like a textural instrument, obscure and indecipherable. This, along with increasingly traditional song structures humanises the band in an entirely new way. They’re still guitar led and retain a rock backbone but have transcended this with moments of glinting beauty.

‘Blank Media’ is a case in point, a transparent love letter to the Cocteau Twins, a multicoloured, multifaceted gem of loveliness. There’s definitely much more of a dance element to some tracks too, as demonstrated on ‘Pleasure Palaces’. More than once listening to this I’m reminded of the warped neon slickness of recent film ‘Drive’ and simultaneously of growing up in Scotland in the Eighties.

A studio roof caving incident at the outset of recording did nothing to distract them, they just convened instead at the guitarist’s house and worked on, collating their sounds at the end of each day. Bold, colourful and eclectic, ‘Have Some Faith’ displays a vivid musical palette showcasing a band growing in scope and stature. More corporeal than ethereal, the beauty here is constantly shifting, like mercury. It does contain magic, not of another world, but of this.

8/10 - Clash Magazine

On their third album, Errors muster all of their electro-rock might to create a record that is brimming with magic moments. From the off it sounds big. ‘Tusk’ opens the album with a weighty riff before a synth lines launches it into a serious groove. The construction of the track and balance of the instruments is superb, as it is with so many of the songs on ‘Have Some Faith In Magic’. It’s a real progression for the band. While retaining their core sound, they’ve smoothed out some of the clunky Krautrock influences and added more shades of tone and texture.

This can be heard on the stand-out track ‘Magna Encarta’. There’s a lot going on, from Abe Vigoda-esque tropical guitar to the bend of meaty chords at its climax, which almost seems like a nod to the band’s label bosses Mogwai. It also includes a new addition to Errors’ armory, vocals. Not exactly lyrics, but an echoey call that is featured on a few of the tracks. It adds a necessary layer, giving the songs a human touch that focuses your attention.

Later on the record, there are moments where the driving electronics spark memories of old video games (‘The Knock’) and 80s action films (‘Earthscore’), but at no point does it sound retro. However, with its accessible sound and occasional pop touches it does feel lacking a single that could cross over to a wider audience. Not something that would see the band dumbing down, but a track like ‘Atlas’ by Battles or Holy Fuck’s ‘Lovely Allen’ that could take them to another level. Although I’m sure long-term fans of Errors will not be too bothered by this.

Bookending the album’s prodigious opening, is closing track ‘Holus-Bolus’. It is grand in scale, but not in an epic post-rock style; like many of the songs on ‘Have Some Faith’ it creates a high rather than peak. It’s a great album to kick off 2012. And with its warmth and energy, it will easily see you through these cold winter months.

Rating: 8/10 - This Is Fake DIY

When discussing which records The Line of Best Fit’s writers were most looking forward to hearing in 2012, there were a few names that kept cropping up. The more we considered this question, the more we realised that over the past year or so, this particular band had come to possess all of the tools required to create something really quite special. As such, the third album from Errors was placed very high up our list of “things to look forward to this year”, and it’s safe to say that we’ve not been disappointed.

With Have Some Faith In Magic, Errors have constructed something which, at first listen, appears to be fairly simple and graspable (which is probably the side of things that The Saturdays latched on to), but after peeling back the surface, the record reveals itself to be made up of all of the ingenuity and inspiration that we’ve come to expect from this band. The Glaswegian four-piece have become so good at their craft in the eight years since their formation that they make this whole album-creating process sound effortless – the trick being to make music that can be as emotionally involving, as physically involving and as mentally involving as the listener chooses for it to be.

Opening up with ‘Tusk’, we can instantly hear that this is the most considered Errors record to date. There’s an immediate sense of space and ambition to the track, and the seamless mix demonstrates a confidence that seems to be flying high in the Errors camp, as though the group are feeling fully comfortable with their sound and ready to take on and conquer whatever they please. ‘Tusk’ is a perfect choice of opener. A shimmering backdrop is overlapped by a driving guitar melody before the whole track slips into a warm, resonating synth-led offering. Singles ‘Magna Encarta’ and ‘Pleasure Palaces’ particularly stand out, each possessing the strong, driving melodies typical of this group, whilst providing some of the more rousing and hypnotic moments to be found on the album. ‘Blank Media’ offers a response to these more raucous tunes, offering up a slower tempo and a softer mix, balancing out some of the more bracing elements on the record.

Over the past year, Errors have spent a lot of time on the road including a jaunt Stateside in support of their label bosses Mogwai. Having played in front of some unfathomably large audiences has clearly done nothing but good for this band, who have incorporated previously unexplored live elements, including processed vocals, into their repertoire. A particular high point which shows off these freshly-tapped resources comes towards the close of the album in the form of ‘Cloud Chamber’. This is one of the tracks where the increased use of vocal elements is really given the time and space to shine, and the result? A rich and absorbing track that adds a soulful, soft and alluring edge to the record.

Errors have always been an immediately attractive proposition. From the get-go, their records have been loaded with catchy hooks, sonic nuances and understated textures,and Have Some Faith In Magic is exemplary of this skill. But there’s something much more grand and pristine about this album than what we’ve heard from Errors before. That’s not to say that it’s polished or glossy in any way, more that it’s very well thought out. Each track slips seamlessly and seemingly effortlessly into its successor, yet each track also stands sturdily on its own.

Have Some Faith In Magic proves that there’s a lot more to this band than excellently titled records (see: How Clean Is Your Acid House? and It’s Not Something But It Is Like Whatever) and that almost jarringly catchy, trippy number that is ‘Supertribe’. This is a subtly brilliant album which harbours a quiet confidence, some outstanding tracks and a slight smirk knowing that ambitions were achieved with this effort, and that expectant listeners’ ears will well and truly have been appeased. - The Line Of Best Fit

A great third LP which sounds like the work of a band hitting its peak.

Reef Younis 2012-01-25

The critical success of Errors’ gloomy, pulsating 2008 debut LP, It's Not Something But It Is Like Whatever, could have been the catalyst for the Scottish electro-indie ("post-electro," says Wikipedia) four-piece to unleash a rapid-fire succession of releases exploiting the bubbling momentum surrounding them. But rather than rest on their laurels, Errors pressed on with furthering their sound and, following a touring schedule that’d punish the most wanderlust-possessed act, the rich ambition of Come Down With Me arrived. A vindication of Rock Action’s patient support, and of the band’s own convictions, Come Down With Me is now followed by a third long-play set – and anticipation has been rightly brewing.

Dedicated to relatively small evolutions over giant leaps into the unknown, Errors have progressed from the tempered darkness of their debut and the shimmering shoegaze and rumbling beats of its successor to deliver their most composed, defined album to date. The cold, metronomic percussion is as exact as ever, but here it’s nuanced by the confidence to commit previously half-heard vocals to the mix in a more pronounced fashion. Balanced and shaded, these contributions give the album a subtle layer of humanity that melts into the synthetic backdrops beautifully and, significantly, are not the distraction they could so easily have been.

Not a band to indulge in the ostentatious, the vocal aspects are as considered as any element in Errors’ controlled musical mechanics. Looped and processed wails waft into the electricity around them – they’re a welcome stranger, too, bringing colour to Pleasure Palaces which syncs wonderfully with the outfit’s unflinching heartbeat. Elsewhere, words possess Barton Spring with an eeriness that’s reminiscent of The Longcut’s raw vocal charge.
Buoyed by Tusk’s gorgeous, ebbing statement of arctic, Attenborough-esque exploration, the scrambled, pixelated joy of The Knock, and the 8-bit atmospherics of Cloud Chamber, the album’s pensive tempo allows each track to flourish beyond the sum of its parts. The more visceral qualities of albums past is noticeably lacking – the raging Magna Encarta notwithstanding – and Have Some Faith… is impressively characterised by its very organic design. It sounds as if it’s the work of human trial and error, rather than a series of computer-coded phrases and melodies, and it’s this fragility that really has it standing out as the work of a band hitting its peak. - BBC Music

5 stars

ALBUM REVIEW BY CHRIS BUCKLE.
PUBLISHED 04 JANUARY 2012

For their latest trick, Errors have produced their most impressive album thus far. Tusk is an impeccable introduction – bombastic and tight, its opening is a Richard Burton monologue-short of Jeff Wayne, its central melody a crystal-prog wonder. It’s one of their third album's boldest points of progression from past releases, though the echoing vocals that slink through single Magna Encarta also refresh the band’s palette.

It’s not the first time a human voice has entered Errors’ sphere – as far back as 2006's How Clean Is Your Acid House? EP, Terror Tricks arrived with vocoder over its glitches – but on Have Some Faith in Magic the typically instrumental quartet exercise their larynxes in a more sustained fashion. It’s a significant alteration, one with an attendant danger of homogenisation, but – in a manner comparable to Battles’ recent evolution – they make good on their promise to treat the vocals like any other instrument.

Despite these tweaks, Errors' strengths remain consistent, dextrously push-pulling the listener between dance floor and headphones, the latter to appreciate the invention on offer, the former to get lost in its folds. The pointillist-style artwork is nicely representative in this regard – intricately clever up-close, unfussy yet beautiful when surveyed as a whole: quite simply, magic. - The Skinny

Control does funny things to people. Held in the wrong hands, it's a murderous swine of a power. The annals of history are peppered with examples of how it can be taken to the most extreme levels; where lateral thought and common decency are overthrown by a fug of totalitarianism and self importance. And that's just modern day traffic wardens.

But even when massaged in the right palms, control isn't always such a virtuous thing. The responsibility that goes with authority can overwhelm once creatively poised lines of thought. Suddenly the inventive mindset that helped forge control in the first place becomes the unspoken enemy. Playing it safe is the default position. There's no room for chance taking.

This type of control - the fermenting, grey-matter dissolving, long-term variety - has seen the mainstream music industry come to a shuddering standstill over the years. Lauded yet archaic labels are being outflanked and outmanouvered by wiley young bucks; mainstream rags are folding quicker than an origami sensei; while music retailers are navigating their ships with the foresight of an Italian cruise liner captain in the Mediterranian. Bands aren't much better, often attempting to re-pique listeners' lugs by winding out re-heated leftovers from the days they sounded 'fresh'.

Thankfully, Glasgow electro outfit Errors have always valued progression over this out-of-control control. The quartet's debut LP, exotically entitled It's Not Something, But It is Like Whatever, was a glitching, slinking, synth-stained wench of a record that never took itself seriously. Its follow up, Come Down With Me, was more unhinged; lathered in afro-rhythms, it contorted its various musical limbs into wild-eyed rankles that felt equally at home in the Amazon as they did on the dancefloor. Which ever way you took them, you could never accuse Errors of being entirely on top of things.

Here, then, at the foothill of album number three, the band have earned the right to a little control. After all, it's been six year since they signed to Rock Action. Six long years. In that time they've watched notable contemporaries appear then disappear almost as regularly as they've seen the letters M-O-G-W-A-I tattooed into every line of every review. But they've survived. Unscathed and unaffected, the band have gradually climbed the scales of leftfield respectability.

In many ways, Have Some Faith in Magic helps Errors secure their place atop the UK's shagpile of bleep-making behemoths. This is the sound of a band taking stock. A band more measured than ever before. There are no stray movements, no wayward throes. Every note is considered, mulled, strangulated. Yet, it's surprising just how non-manipulated it feels. Somehow, amidst all the rigid architecture, Errors have conjured up something utterly organic in nature, but skin-tight in direction.

Such clear headed precision is immediately noticeable. Opener 'Tusk' sets out on a thick, chomping guitar growl, before breaking into a cathedral synth apogee. Bereft of atypical android-electro signatures, this is a crisp and linear mark up, where layers of drum and synth build into swarms of faintly victorious bit-crushed melody.

Pre-release, much has been made of Stephen Livingstone's increased vocal input, suggesting a not-so-subtle shunt in direction beckoned. But the reality is nowhere near as overt. Livingstone's woozy, affected tones add depth rather than focus, supplying a hymnal incantation to the entrancing cosmoses of 'Magna Encarta' and 'Cloud Chambers's textural rhythms. Like everything here, the vocals are more than just tokenistic; they have rhyme and reason for being there.

On early listens, two clear circling points exist. The bass-bin pushing, gutter shuffle of 'Pleasure Palaces' creates a hypnotic, persuasive bounce that's impossible to resist, slinking its way through a star-scattered playground of cathedral synth and pulsating beat. 'Earthscore' is more aggressively charged. Coiled by tribal rhythm and monolithic keys, it's an intensely claustrophobic, demented affair that unfolds, cinematically, as a magnificent other-worldly soundtrack.

As exhilarating as they are, these propulsive efforts are considerably out of step with the record's slow-burning centre. Composed of gentle rhythms that exude a distinctly Balearic temperament, ...Faith in Magic is a considered and self-reflective affair. Post-rock is, as ever, at the core of Errors work, but in this claustrophobic, overhanging chasm lurks a less primal beast, where thick, airy numbers like 'Barton Spring' or 'Blank Media' verge eerily close to a smart, scholarly elegance that takes time to study and sink in.

But once it's in, slotted and stapled into some realm of the brainbox, it's brilliant. Unashamedly, undeniably, unequivocally brilliant. With Have Some Faith in Magic, Errors have out-Mogwaied Mogwai, out-Sadded The Twilight Sad. Through each of these 12 immaculately crafted slabs of grandiose sound lies mesh upon mesh of complex, interwoven melody that, like the beatific swells of album climax 'Holus Bolus', chimes with an array of emotions.

Admittedly, it is, quite probably, a peak they'll never again scale. But Errors are no longer inviting us to come back down with them. They're no longer in the mood for, like, whatever. That was another time, another band. Right now, they're taking us to where they want to go. And they can. Why? Because this is a band in complete control.

9 / 10 - Drowned In Sound

Clumsy though it may read, that title proves to be an unexpectedly prescient one. Errors’ debut is one of those rare, refreshing delights: an album that ticks so many boxes and hearkens to no small amount of reference points and yet comes out feeling totally fresh, uniquely original, and with a sound that is firmly its own. It’s not quite like that familiar something, but you know, it is kind of like whatever. Make no mistake, that’s “whatever” through unimportance rather than indifference, because for all their allusions, implacable or otherwise, Errors mark out their territory like a tiger amongst tabbies—comparable but surely distinctive.

The product of over a year’s graft in Glaswegian studios, It’s Not Something, But It Is Like Whatever eschews the oft-trodden debut route by leaving introductory EPs and singles in the past. The foursome’s playfully-titled short-player How Clean Is Your Acid House? thus provides only the seeds, rather than the substance of this full-length, and if that suggests Errors are an outfit with no scarcity of ideas, their debut’s opening gambits do little to prove otherwise. It all begins fairly inconspicuously, with “Dance Music”‘s frivolous bassline and scrambling reverberations, but it takes less than thirty seconds before great swathes of synth take hold, washing up with them squeaks, squalls, and scratches and a punchy beat to verify the track’s title. “National Prism” trods a similar path, with calm, unassuming guitar-based beginnings swept aside early on by the accumulation of unkempt yet joyful synth, its throbbing electro heart still beating even when the guitars are recalled to the fore. Both tracks are equal parts mess and melody and boast a mesmerising ability to feel out moments of beauty amongst the mire, a quality that will go on to form the backbone of It’s Not Something.

In this respect, Errors share common ground with Sheffield math-post-something-rock noise mongers 65daysofstatic, who themselves manage the dichotomy of euphoric melody and blistering surges of sound as capably as if they were bread and butter. “Still Game” is the prime example: simple, overlapping guitar and dot-to-dot glockenspiel seem to set a scene primed for post-rock-by-numbers but, like 65days before them, Errors have other ideas, and so in come in the electro beats and simmering synths to skew things in a different direction. Recent single “Toes” sends the associations Stateside, more specifically in the direction of New Yorkers Battles, with interweaving pinpoint riffs and wobbling electronics, its drumwork less pummelling but as eager for involvement as John Stanier’s.

Yet while such comparisons aren’t short in number, It’s Not Something is more like a quick drive past some electro-rock luminary house party rather than an extended stay. Wheels turning, brief snatches of Errors’ musical heritage flash by without overshadowing the overall journey. Much focus in some quarters, for instance, has rested on the fact that Errors are signed to the Rock Action label helmed by fellow Glaswegians Mogwai, but the two outfits are only a little alike sonically, with respect to their comfortable blending of electronic ingredients and post-rock-sourced arpeggios. Indeed, the only instance in which this comparison can be taken all the way is on “Crystal Maze”, a hazy, humid wash of sound that would fit snugly beside some of the slower burners off of Mr. Beast.

That said, slow-burners aren’t really what we’re here for, and Errors, like Battles, are at their finest when they’ve something rhythmically strong to wrap their sonic tentacles around. That’s not to say that the likes of closer “Alot of the Things You Don’t Isn’t” and the spliced-up monologue soundscapes of “Cutlery Drawer” don’t appeal. The former, a sparse affair, is an apt choice to finish proceedings, its attractive piano meanderings and sparely applied synth providing the comedown at the end of what proves to be a markedly energetic album. The latter, meanwhile, features a cameo from British diseuse George Pringle (and the only vocal to feature on the album) that risks sounding disinterested, but thankfully the splintered, crystalline hue that Errors lace her realist teen narrative with is the perfect foil for her eye-rolling irony (“people in Oxford don’t know how to do drugs”). But it’s tracks like “Dance Music”, “National Prism”, and early single “Salut! France”, an exhilarating fusion of acid house and fuzzy electronica, that truly stick in the head. It’s here that Errors excel, when they’re constructing solid foundations out of beats and bass only to melt them down into a messy but gloriously, danceable concoction. Just as good is “Pump”, which weaves, bobs and ducks its way through seven minutes of zesty, bass-heavy techno, sounding more like Warp stalwart Chris Clark stripping down LCD Soundsystem to their bare instrumental essentials than anything that could be pegged with unseemly prefixes like math- and post-.

All in all it’s a remarkable surefooted debut, something that’s pretty inevitable for a band taken under the collective guiding eminence of Mogwai but that nonetheless smacks of a group of musicians justifiably confident in themselves. Confident in their ability to make music chaotic, graceful, and danceable in equal measures, confident enough to clip the corners of what other outfits are doing without sounding derivative or even unoriginal, and, no doubt, confident they’ve just made a damn fine debut album.

8/10

By Chris Baynes - Popmatters

****
With the daft, verbose album title, Errors are presumably launching a pre-emptive strike at the music journalists who will try to categorise their sound in the coming weeks and months; the point being that the Glasgow band are too disparate for the old name-that-genre ploy. Sure, they're electro, but they're also post-rock, math rock, acid house... Moving on swiftly, we find that Errors have developed the basic, glitchy elements of their early 7” singles and EP into a cohesive album of instrumental electronica. The influence of their employer, Mogwai, looms large - almost too large – in the minimalist, adagio guitar lines, but when they break into a Battles-like jerk-frenzy on Toes they reveal yet another side to their sound. And Oxford solo artist George Pringle adds her mellow spoken-word to Cutlery Drawer, a welcome dose of the human in a brilliantly synthetic album. - The Skinny

While the power of influence can be both a blessing and a curse for any ambitious emerging band, Glasgow’s Errors bear the burden a little more than most. The self-described “post-electro” quartet has had the good fortune of finding generous benefactors in post-rock heavies Mogwai, who took Errors under its wing by giving the young band exposure through opening slots on tours as well as releasing their records on Mogwai’s own Rock Action label. On Come Down with Me, it’s clear that Errors have learned the lessons of their genre-defining big brothers well, creating bold instrumental music that leaves enough room for nuance and conveys a tinge of dark humor without needing any words.

But therein lies the rub for Errors too, hard pressed due to guilt by association to escape the massive shadow cast by Mogwai. Of course, it’s no coincidence that there’s at least a family resemblance in the music, particularly in the way Errors construct panoramic soundscapes that are sinewy and imposing, but also painstakingly detail oriented. This time around, the Mogwai comparisons seem more apt for Errors, since the new album amplifies the rock action a little more over the electronic vibe of It’s Not Something But It Is Like Whatever, the band’s strong 2008 debut that has somehow remained unreleased and shockingly overlooked in the US. Indeed, many of Mogwai’s distinctive qualities come through on the sophomore effort, particularly in the haunting, patient dynamics and minor-key dramatics of tracks like “Antipode” and “The Black Tent”.

But give Come Down with Me more of a blind assessment and hints of other heady sources of inspiration become more apparent, expanding the range and scope of what Errors achieve on the album. The album opens like a redux of Yo La Tengo’s middle-period work on “Bridge or Cloud?”, embellishing the hazy poignancy of Painful or And Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out with deft electronic touches. And what guitar experimenting combo worth its salt doesn’t want to reprise My Bloody Valentine, as Errors try to do with the shimmering atmospherics of “The Erskine Bridge”?

Even more so than Mogwai, Tortoise comes across on Come Down with Me as perhaps Errors’ most prominent influence: “Germany” might at first seem like too rote a redux of something off of TNT, but then the band switches gears mid-song, sounding like a stretched-out instrumental version of Foals, before settling into an dancey groove that cross-pollinates both analogues. On the closing number “Beards”, the resemblance to Tortoise is more in terms of structure than the actual sound, as the song winds to a false ending in the middle only to lock back into a pulsing groove highlighted by guitars that could’ve come off one of the more recent Sonic Youth albums. In the case of Errors, it’s thoughtful, often ingenious reinterpretation that makes for the sincerest form of flattery, not flat-out imitation.

Listen some more and Errors seems to strike on a formula that’s more their own, especially on the electro-heavy offerings. Though they wouldn’t exactly sound out of place on DFA remix collection, the hyped-up synths of “Supertribe” update and advance the group’s own earlier work, where anthemic keyboards roar with precision and force rather than rely on any of electronica’s high-energy clichés. But it’s on the single “A Rumour in Africa” that Errors create their own vernacular, reimagining dance punk with intricate interplay and catchy instrumental refrains that put a premium on complexity over bluster. There, Errors sound like a band coming into its own, where they really make their influences footnotes rather than put them in quotation marks. While Come Down with Me, as a whole, suggests that Errors aren’t quite at that point just yet, the album also suggests that it probably won’t be too long before they arrive.

By Arnold Pan - Popmatters

For starters, you just have to love the irony, intentional or not, of that album title. Everything was pointing towards Glasgow quartet Errors’ sophomore record being an impenetrable, dark affair, but it’s rather safe to say that nothing could be further from the truth.

Simon Ward, Stephen Livingstone and Greg Paterson released their debut, ‘It’s Not Something But It Is Like Whatever’ in 2008, and it was a very impressive record indeed. ‘Come Down With Me’, then, had a lot to live up to, and for the most part it is every bit as good.

Having roped in a fourth member since its release (drummer James Hamilton), the new album is a natural progression from ‘It’s Not Something…’. It would have made no sense for the group to abandon what they were best at. Lead single ‘A Rumour In Africa’, with its buzzing, Foals-like guitars and rumbling synth bass, hinted at a much tighter and more refined sound - with the crucial addition of some great hooks.

The melodies are what set the four-piece’s two albums apart from each other. While their developed and more expansive sound has drawn comparisons to Battles, Errors come with added accessibility. There is a real immediacy to this record - the sublime one-two punch of ‘Supertribe’ and ‘Antipode’ is all the proof that’s needed.

Ambient soundscapes make an appearance here too: ‘The Erskine Bridge’ may seem like mere filler on initial listens, but it sets up on of the album’s standouts, the introspective ‘Sorry About the Mess’, the only moment here where the album’s title seems to suit its contents.

‘Come Down With Me’ is definitely an uplifting listen. It may not seem so from the outset, but as more things jump out at you on further investigation, and everything falls into place, it becomes clear that there is euphoria at its heart. Closer ‘Beards’ is a great indicator of this; the song seems to collapse in on itself after three minutes after building on its krautrock foundations, moving through time signatures like they’re going out of style before slowing to an almost complete stop - before the bass comes back in and the song builds all over again, culminating in an astonishing, guitar-driven finale. Quite a lot is accomplished in these six minutes, as ‘Come Down With Me’ bows out in style.

Natural progressions are always the best. Errors’ inventiveness has not diminished in the slightest. Far from it. In fact, the group have shown us that they intend to stick around. They’re very good at what they do, and this diverse album indicates that there are lots of places they could take their sound next. A rather exciting prospect, we’re sure you’ll agree. - This Is Fake DIY

It is, by all accounts, a question of environment. 'Come Down With Me', recorded in a dank Glaswegian studio – their own place, apparently, fitting known as 'The Freezer' – could not have been the creation of Muscle Shoals. From the initial 'humm', the album spits with a cold tension, as if engineered under the constant threat of violence. Not that it is without heart…and that heart belongs deep within the warmth of the 80s, a pulse beat that powered the edgier pop creations of that remarkable era. One listen in and you start to pick up the lost strands of Cabaret Voltaire, ClockDVA, The Normal, the wilder edges of Magazine…and then some. In places, this pulsation explodes into almost orchestral joy. For this is the point here. Ideas are deliberately suppressed, over and over until the only release is a frenzied eruption. If that sounds overtly sexual, so be it, but it is a hastened, frenzied sexual encounter rather than a dreamy romance.

When Errors first appeared in album form, on their debut of summer 2008, critics ranted about endless 'possibilities'. The effect was to fire the band towards the joyous car crash of a record we find here, where twisted and warped noises are randomly wrapped around that controlling pulse beat… yes, that controlling heart.

It is too tempting to label this 'post electro', but the description, barely a genre at all, doesn't suit them. Electro, in might be said, stopped and 'fattened out' and it is within this spreading process that we find Errors. What shines through is a solid precocity, a ferocious confidence and a somewhat ironic belief if a lo-fi attack. In short, a latter-day electro-punk, bristling with attitude and invention. The downside lies in that aforementioned movement between the two albums an one find it difficult to envisage a next step.

Nevertheless, there are fine moments here. The initial single, 'A Rumour in Africa' (great novelistic title) looks set to become a defining Errors moment and, given a little creative publishing, could well creep into many unlikely areas of television sound tracking. That course, although an offshoot, might well become their main thoroughfare, especially as they place the senses of pace and mood at the very front of the music. The darker, almost quasi-religious tone of 'Black Tent' (Another evocative title) would certainly support this.

Heavy touring is set to support the album and should lift them beyond their obvious niche at ATP and Latitude Festivals. However, their successes at these festivals are interesting, for they remain a perfect 'sound', whether discovered in Suffolk greenery or amid the pastel chalets of Minehead. Unhinged rather than aloof. It may not seem like it, but that is meant as a compliment. They will move on…but to where? - The Quiet Us

Formulated during last year’s tour with label bosses Mogwai, (Errors are signed to their Rock Action label), and the Summer’s festival circuit appearances, Errors returned to their Glasgow studio bunker, ‘The Freezer’, to perfect this second full length outing.

The band’s expertly realized fusion of organic and electronic instruments remains, bolstered by their extensive tour diary that’s also seen them open for Underworld. Opener ‘Bridge Or Cloud?’ is a blessed out ping pong starter before ‘A Rumour In Africa’ steps things up, all hi hat, squalling synth and guitar picked melody. Other highlights included the Summer afternoon dream of ‘The Erskine Bridge’ and starlight twinkle of ‘Beards’.

7/10

Words by Nick Annan - Clash Magazine

‘What’s that? You want us to play Oasis’ 'I Am the Walrus'?’ Oh dear. And so, some mouthy Stirlingite did confirm the preconceptions of those from the Central Belt’s other cities regarding what constitutes modern music here. Okay, that’s harsh. But the feeling was that Errors faced an uphill battle to win the crowd over before their party bangers came out later in the set.

Still, you can hardly blame them for being eclectic. The quartet (Simon Ward, Stephen Livingstone, Greg Paterson and James Hamilton) have won increased recognition for their new album, Come Down With Me, but it’s refreshingly hard to pigeonhole them. Here they looked like twee Glaswegian indie boys but played like Can, their brusque, clattering rhythms smoothed down into something more melodic (‘Beards’), or like LCD Soundsystem gone rave (‘Salut France’), or an electro version of their Rock Action paymasters, Mogwai (‘Mr Milk’). The guy up the front didn’t get his Oasis, but after a dancefloor-ready closing double of ‘A Rumour in Africa’ and ‘Pump’ he was trying to make his way onstage for a kiss from the band. Approval achieved, in other words.

4/5

(David Pollock) - The List

It’s been a while since a bunch of arty boys from Glasgow made one of the records of the year. But with their second offering Come Down With Me (a title in homage to the Channel 4 dining bitchfest), Errors have done exactly that. Gorgeously textured and layered to perfection, these ten mind-bendingly brilliant instrumental tracks appear to draw on everything from Homework-era Daft Punk and Mr Oizo house, to krautrock, glitchy electronica, punk funk and even the melancholy post-rock of their label founders Mogwai. Clever stuff then, yes, but it’s much less cluttered-sounding than some of those high-falutin’ influences at first appear.

You see, when deconstructed the Errors output is admittedly a complex one: crammed full of time-changes, sudden breakdowns, spoken word samples and huge surges of thundering drums and monstrous riffs. But from within the sonic maelstrom, the foursome tease out incredibly hummable melodies, and then play around with them to sublime effect. Synth and guitar lines soar, taking the place of where the vocals might be, and then snake off in a variety of directions, sometimes repeatedly within the same track. And it’s all so infectious that you feel you could actually sing along with the instruments – The List did, and it sounded ridiculous, but we’ll no doubt do it again when drunk.

Despite encouraging dodgy croonings from us, the Errors boys really should be damn proud of themselves. Six months in a bunker-like space in Glasgow affectionately named ‘The Freezer’ has led to this; their very own little masterpiece. One of many to come, we’re sure.

4/5 - The List

****
Errors' ‘post-electro’ pigeonhole is becoming a little ill-fitting, although the immediacy of Come Down With Me’s starting salvo might initially suggest otherwise. Supertribe bounces along with the synth goodness of Squarepusher DJing a toddler's birthday party whilst A Rumour In Africa looks a shoo-in to follow the TV show soundtracking path tread by previous signature tune Mr. Milk. OK, so it’s not a huge leap forward in style for the quartet, to the point that the ‘big pop tunes’ and the more contemplative, droning numbers closely mirror those on their debut album. But Come Down With Me does showcase some new, interesting facets. There’s no more math rock a la Toes, and the shadow of label bosses Mogwai is distinctly paler, though still visible. Instead there’s more woozy, psychedelic country with hymnal undertones on Black Tent and towering guitar crescendos on finale Beards to complement it. Errors' trajectory remains steady as a rock, it's just getting trickier to pin these boys down.
[Darren Carle] - The Skinny

While their tongues are often lodged in cheeks – this second album's title is (surely) a chuckle-pun on a certain television show of a culinary slant – Glasgow four-piece Errors have only ever been straight-of-face when it’s come to delivering the musical goods. Welcoming, amiable individuals off stage, such steely focus on their chosen art is admirably stolid.

They could easily layer on the cheese and craft party-time hits for tonic wine-swilling types; that they’ve the ability to do so isn’t in doubt. But by refining their sound to incorporate as much krautrock-inspired economy as New York-indebted dance-gets-mathy overtones – think LCD Soundsystem’s silken sweeps harangued by an ego-trippin’ Battles fresh from crashing that absurdly towering ride cymbal – the band have carved a niche that, while narrow, is considerably deeper than expectations decreed.

If Errors’ last album, It’s Not Something but It Is Like Whatever, lacked anything it was a natural heart. Live they thrilled, interplay between members evident and evoking a joyous response, a relief of sorts, from those before them; but on record, curtains closed, picturing the process to conjure these songs proved tough. Much seemed to be a case of dots and dashes, numbers and codes. It felt cold, clinical, but not here: where once they chattered like robots, Errors have grafted real flesh to synthetic bone, threaded veins through tissue and grown a skin that isn’t so thick that admirers can’t glimpse the inner-workings. This is the machine made man.

Part of being human is the need for R’n’R of a put-your-guitars-down variety: rest and recuperation. Come Down With Me, while never plumbing peculiarly clichéd depths of introspective immersion, does stall its rapid step on occasion to allow both actors and audience a little breather. The splendid opening trio of Bridge or Cloud?, A Rumour in Africa and Supertribe – all fizzy synths and stuttering electric plucks, sticks-on-skins lending additional bombast to already pulsating circuit-boards and squelching keys – subsides for one such diversion into downbeat territory, Antipode. More akin to a slowed sojourn from Rock Action label-masters Mogwai, the track’s placement presents an opportunity for reflection: on how far Errors have come, and where they go next.

In the immediacy: through more of the enjoyable same, ‘til dreamy closer Beards. After this, well, such is their newly appreciable organic approach that album three could be the cheery wave to stranded hipsters to end all such cheeky salutations.

Mike Diver - BBC Music

For every Kissy Sellout or Drums Of Death giving electro a bad name, for every po-faced post-rock meanderer that thinks they’re God’s gift just because they play guitar slowly, there’s sadly few Errors redressing the balance.

The young Glaswegian quartet’s 2008 debut ‘It’s Not Something But It Is Like Whatever’ was an exciting blast from the leftfield, its taut and funky post-everything dance music a heartening sign that both these much-abused genres had life in them yet.

It’s with mixed feelings, then, that we say that Errors’ second album… does pretty much the same thing. They’re still doing it better than anyone else; ravier than Foals, more fun than Fuck Buttons, flexing more post-hardcore muscle than Metronomy. It’s just that we kind of hoped they might surprise us again.

That said, if they’re not pushing any new envelopes, ‘Come Down With Me’ is still satisfying on its own terms. First single ‘A Rumour In Africa’ is euphoric and funky, locating the perfect middle ground between post-hardcore, post-rock and electro. ‘Supertribe’ is springy and exuberant, call-and-response guitar giving way to an itchy, restless electro-synth riff.

The bangers, as on their debut, are preferable to their more contemplative moments, which can tend towards the worthy; ‘Antipode’ finds them still too much in thrall to label bosses Mogwai, while the navel-gazing ‘Sorry About The Mess’ feels a little post-rock-by-numbers, Errors writing a song that they know sounds like an Errors song.

‘The Erskine Bridge’, by contrast, is much more interesting, a wind-chiming, ambient watercolour contemplation that’s impressively subtle, but hard to reconcile with the rest of the album. ‘The Black Tent’ nails a mournful mood just right, with more mellifluous guitar and a rolling, melancholic feel, gazing-sadly-out-of car-window music.

Much better are the tight, assertive rhythms of ‘Jolomo’, finding a sense of purpose that the album as a whole seems to lack and building to a menacing lurch. They save the best for last in the form of ‘Beards’, a krauty, sophisticated number that’s the most fun moment here. Its woozily oscillating, slightly seasick whirl leaves you feeling that this is a band who have much more development potential in them than they’ve displayed here.

Errors remain one of the most interesting young bands in the country, even if their second album isn’t quite difficult enough. Perhaps they could do with living up to their name and risking a few more mistakes.

Emily Mackay

7/10 - NME

Second album syndrome. It’s a phrase that denotes some obligation to evolve out of a bracket that is almost always doomed to fail. It defines how bands and artists are so readily pigeonholed through their first efforts and will never achieve anything greater. With Errors’ first full length, It’s Not Something, But It Is Like Whatever, they (arguably) managed to get rid of that ‘syndrome’, despite the fact that it was their full length debut. The much adored How Clean Is Your Acid House? EP and Salut, Francesingle had already sated the appetite for a fair few, despite these pieces existing as morsels before the main course of the album. While INSBIILW was doubtless a solid effort, it never felt as if the step was made into their touted status as a rebuttal to the likes of Battles or 65daysofstatic.

Come Down With Me, on the other hand - Errors' actual second album, can hopefully evade such concerns. The initial furore over the band had passed, leaving them breathing space to expand upon their acclaimed work. The time spent in what they refer to as ‘the freezer’ in recording this album has obviously focussed them; the result is a joy throughout. Opener ‘Bridge or Cloud?’ is a prime case in point. It’s quintessentially Errors, but has a triumphant march-like feel that was never recognised as missing in the first album. ‘A Rumour In Africa’ plays on the staccato combinations of their canon and is a wonderful reminder of just where Errors have come from, but it’s following track, ‘Supertribe’, that ups the ante for the rest of the album.

Without meaning to sound facetious in this comparison, it really is pretty similar to Calvin Harris at his emotronic best (of course without his trashy, self-felating demeanour over the top). The track is a modern pop gem, and goes to show further that the band's unwarranted tag of math-rock/post-rock is almost completely unfounded. What they have honed so perfectly ('Supertribe’ being a leading example of this) is their song-writing. Such ability for an instrumental band to plant tunes into your head always proves that you have something quite special on your hands.

Of course, they still wear their influences on their sleeve, but how they manipulate these influences with such an admirable and indomitable honesty has to be noted, trivial or otherwise. A tour with label daddies Mogwai last year has obviously souped up their sound plenty. ‘Antipode’ makes them sound like their ‘soul brothers’, swinging from the swoony melee of synthesisers and simple guitar lines into a stop-start bass driven beast. This near-homage is also apparent in the chant laden ‘The Black Tent’, which acts as an ode to some forgotten memory of themselves. It’s the album’s sole forlorn moment, but its tenderness is tangible because of its loneliness, and only amplified by the Stone Roses-esque chords from closing track ‘Beards’.

A new-found confidence is impossible to ignore and you’d be hard pushed to find a track on here that doesn’t stand out on its own merits, but what makes the experience of listening to it in full so joyous is just how cohesive it is. There are few tangents in comparison to their first album, where at one moment they could be a solid angular rock entity, the next an electro mash up behemoth. Come Down With Me has solidified the band as their own entity; it has forged all of the disparate pieces of the past into something evergreen. There is no inclination to pander to any preconceptions of yore and this has now, undoubtedly, made Errors the force they always threatened to be.

9/10 - Drowned In Sound

Labelmates of titanic rockers Part Chimp Errors may be, but this Glaswegian trio’s songs are rooted firmly in the electronica field, albeit then ignored beyond their harvest to rot and, ultimately, mutate through their remaining will power into something strangely rocking, despite its glitch-beats and synthesizer blasts.

The ‘acid’ of the title might have you thinking you’re about to tweak yourself to some higher state of insobriety as soon as the play button’s employed but you’d be barking up the wrong tree. (Indeed, if you are already barking up a tree, chances are you’re in need of no further sensory manipulation through means legal or otherwise, taken aurally or orally.) Track three of this quintet of instrumental compositions, ‘Crew Cut’, features the sort of post-punk bass tone that a hundred-or-so acts scramble to recreate each and every day since ‘Banquet’ made Radio 1; not strictly dance fever, then, or rather not in a purely computerised and studio-bound sense. Errors successfully blend their sky-scraping synths with guitar riffs born of both rock and punk with ‘post’ prefix firmly attached, and the results never disappoint; everything suggests they’re a fantastic live experience, too, a north-of-the-border 65daysofstatic without the too-many-BMPs seizures.

Looking at the acts Errors have thus far played second fiddle to sums up fairly accurately who is going to want to add this ace little record to their collection: M83, Mogwai, Sons and Daughters, Explosions In The Sky. If any of those tickle your fancy with no little frequency, you’re advised to pick this up, post haste.

7/10 - Drowned In Sound

Errors’ debut has taken its sweet time, its makers four never ones to hurry what can’t be achieved over a period of time more preferably suited to non-professional musicians whose keyboard stabs and drum rolls aren’t entirely paying those bills. But, patience is largely rewarded: It’s Not Something But It Is Like Whatever, awkward title aside, is a stellar if belated successor to the Glaswegians’ recommended How Clean Is Your Acid House EP (review).

Cited as north-of-the-border sound-alikes of Battles by some areas of the music press, Errors’ signature bleeps and moans, coupled as they are with traditional/organic percussion and guitar arrangements, do equal a faint echo of their cross-Atlantic peers; but to paint them as copyists of any kind is to fail to fully appraise the subtleties and nuances that so cleverly infect the listener throughout this ten-tracker. The simplest passage can initially appear an afterthought in the grander scheme, in a plan where intricacies dance merrily beneath solid squelches and crisply crunchy beats. But it’s these buzzing motifs that remain in circulation about the grey matter as early as the final fade of closer ‘A Lot Of The Things You Don’t Isn’t’; incidentally, the album’s parting offering is something of an understated departure, carried on graceful piano lines.

Unusually for a debut LP, little previously released material makes the transition from short-play status to full-length status, with only the single ‘Salut! France’ appearing; its seven-inch flip, ‘Maeve Binchy’, might still be available on greenish-yellow wax, somewhere. The sole blast from the proverbial doesn’t feel at all out of place on this collection, but it does seem fairly singular of dimension compared to tracks like ‘Still Game’ and the band’s latest single, ‘Toes’; both feature facets further and deeper than anticipated, attracting attentions with familiar snippets of wobbly-timed guitar patterns before sucking souls closer still to the songs’ cores with tickled hi-hats and weird, droning FX that are a million miles away from standard, or ‘demo function’ if you must, synth embellishments.

Errors haven’t forgotten to pack instant-fix cuts alongside their more introspective offerings, of course: ‘Pump’ fizzes and pops like a dirtied-up LCD Soundsystem shorn of those so-so vocals. Speaking of vocals, only one track here, ‘Cutlery Drawer’ features any, and they’re delivered by George Pringle. An artist of true opinion-dividing DiS infamy, at least on this site’s messageboards, Pringle’s contribution here lends Errors an affecting edge they’ve never explored before now, her spoken-word lines not necessarily of interest to everyone topic-wise (DVDs, drugs, Oxford, stuff) but sliced and glitched by the band to the extent where the track might just be the best thing she’s been involved in to date. The two artists are certainly encouraged to recreate the magic they’ve mustered on record in a live environment.

While a few tracks can be categorised as forgettable – don’t mistake that term for the rather more offensive, and false, ‘filler’ – so much shines throughout It’s Not Something… that it’s truly tough to quit listening to it on rotation after that first time through, after the first impressions have laid foundations. This is a debut with legs – some will hear it, dismiss it, and then return six months later and realise what didn’t make sense then totally connects now. It’s of that mould, a quite singular product of four men, and a guest lady, left to their own devices and never too pressured by their label to come up with the goods. This attitude, considered slack no doubt by more figures-driven industry types, has paid dividends.

Now, how long before the sequel?

8/10 - Drowned In Sound