Photo from http://filterpaper.net/gallery/
When did aspidistrafly become one word? Or rather, when did a s p i d i s t r a f l y become thirteen letters, even-tempered, stark and disparate? I’m not entirely sure. Back at the Tesseract gig held at the Substation in 2003, they were still Aspidistra Fly– but the spaces were always there from the start, the eloquent pauses between strums, ethereal haze of vocals wafting between audio drags. On this rendition of “No Chance of Reconciliation”, April and Ricks removed the song’s hypnotically scattered beats (as heard on their notoriously impossible-to-find first EP) to create the prettiest funeral dirge I’d ever heard. It was their debut gig and I hadn’t realised it then, but right from the start, a s p i d i s t r a f l y were ghosts, and their song would haunt me through time, chase me through the gaps between night and morning, prodding bleakness, sad reminders.
mp3: a s p i d i s t r a f l y – No Chance of Reconciliation (live at The Tesseract, Dec 16, 2003)
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