Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
It’s been three years since we were last treated to a Nova Twins record, and we already knew it was going to solid bangers from start to finish. ‘Parasites and Butterflies’ feels like the conclusion of a trilogy that Amy Love and Georgia South didn’t even know they were writing, encapsulating the chaotic, contrasting, ever shifting world of Nova Twins in a sound that nods to their first two albums and comes out the other side even stronger.
“There’s something in the water,” warns Love on early single drop ‘Piranha’, and when you hear this chanted first line, the instant shiver you feel is the reminder that Nova Twins are dangerous, and they know it. Their ‘dgaf’ attitude and unsettling strength has already disrupted the industry, and this acknowledgment of their hard-won power flows through ‘Parasites and Butterflies’. If this was an album about how great the duo are, it would be cliched at best, and it’s the healthy dose of honesty and insecurity that gives this record a boost. For all the bass-bound posturing on ‘Soprano’, there’s the proud admission of frailty on ‘Monsters’, each time backed with the trademark Nova Twins immersive ferocity. ’N.O.V.A’ shouts out the hip-hop that provided on of the roots of their sound, with whooping callouts, but it’s followed almost immediately by ‘Hummingbird’, using Iranian samples to support the comforting emptiness that permeates the track. There’s never one word, or one tone that can summarise ‘Parasites and Butterflies’; it’s a record that switches through vulnerability and defiance to make a kaleidoscopic cocktail, a hall of mirrors compounded into twelve slamming tracks.
The world created by the Nova Twins is full of layers, and each song on this album demands a second or even third listen to grasp it. On the surface, ‘Hummingbird’ is a straight up dance gem, building up to crashing drops and glitching pause moments, but when you dive into it, the warnings about blindly following your idols make the song that much more of a winner. ‘Hurricane’ pushes the pop end of their sound, and could easily soundtrack a runway (and probably will, considering Nova Twins have their own fashion label), but there’s a tensely plotted rock element underpinning the entire sound that could easily be translated into an indie anthem. The choral open to ‘Black Roses’ should herald a metal track, were any other band drawing on the gorgeously gothic tones that that Twins create, but the beautiful simplicity in the images they’re building that draw on nearly every genre simultaneously make for a song that’s so much greater than the sum of each of its parts. It’s heady stuff, each song one that you could lose yourself in, be it the slinky humanist anthem ‘Glory’ or shout-along electronica of ‘Sandman’. Nothing is entirely what it first appears to be on ‘Parasites and Butterflies’ and that’s all part of the fun.
In the near-decade since their first EP, Nova Twins have become impossible to ignore, even if you don’t follow the music awards in which their names regularly feature. If, somehow, you haven’t given into their intoxicating and ever-more-sophisticated sound, it’s not too late. ‘Parasites and Butterflies’ contains everything that made them so wonderfully disruptive, but with a layer of wonder and introspection woven between their beats and riffs that makes this their best album to date. It’s a gorgeous record that will flourish every listen, and move your feet and your heart with equal fervour.
KATE ALLVEY
“There’s something in the water,” warns Love on early single drop ‘Piranha’, and when you hear this chanted first line, the instant shiver you feel is the reminder that Nova Twins are dangerous, and they know it. Their ‘dgaf’ attitude and unsettling strength has already disrupted the industry, and this acknowledgment of their hard-won power flows through ‘Parasites and Butterflies’. If this was an album about how great the duo are, it would be cliched at best, and it’s the healthy dose of honesty and insecurity that gives this record a boost. For all the bass-bound posturing on ‘Soprano’, there’s the proud admission of frailty on ‘Monsters’, each time backed with the trademark Nova Twins immersive ferocity. ’N.O.V.A’ shouts out the hip-hop that provided on of the roots of their sound, with whooping callouts, but it’s followed almost immediately by ‘Hummingbird’, using Iranian samples to support the comforting emptiness that permeates the track. There’s never one word, or one tone that can summarise ‘Parasites and Butterflies’; it’s a record that switches through vulnerability and defiance to make a kaleidoscopic cocktail, a hall of mirrors compounded into twelve slamming tracks.
The world created by the Nova Twins is full of layers, and each song on this album demands a second or even third listen to grasp it. On the surface, ‘Hummingbird’ is a straight up dance gem, building up to crashing drops and glitching pause moments, but when you dive into it, the warnings about blindly following your idols make the song that much more of a winner. ‘Hurricane’ pushes the pop end of their sound, and could easily soundtrack a runway (and probably will, considering Nova Twins have their own fashion label), but there’s a tensely plotted rock element underpinning the entire sound that could easily be translated into an indie anthem. The choral open to ‘Black Roses’ should herald a metal track, were any other band drawing on the gorgeously gothic tones that that Twins create, but the beautiful simplicity in the images they’re building that draw on nearly every genre simultaneously make for a song that’s so much greater than the sum of each of its parts. It’s heady stuff, each song one that you could lose yourself in, be it the slinky humanist anthem ‘Glory’ or shout-along electronica of ‘Sandman’. Nothing is entirely what it first appears to be on ‘Parasites and Butterflies’ and that’s all part of the fun.
In the near-decade since their first EP, Nova Twins have become impossible to ignore, even if you don’t follow the music awards in which their names regularly feature. If, somehow, you haven’t given into their intoxicating and ever-more-sophisticated sound, it’s not too late. ‘Parasites and Butterflies’ contains everything that made them so wonderfully disruptive, but with a layer of wonder and introspection woven between their beats and riffs that makes this their best album to date. It’s a gorgeous record that will flourish every listen, and move your feet and your heart with equal fervour.
KATE ALLVEY