Setting out on a path with an expected goal, it’s so often the case that along the way other unforeseen outcomes occur. And so it was when Andreas Christodoulidis, lead singer and lyricist for Glasgow’s Humour, began learning Greek. As a second generation he has previously explored the feelings of being disconnected, torn between two cultures and perhaps not feeling wholly a part of either. However, beginning to learn the language unlocked more than initially anticipated, providing a realisation that he wanted to find himself again within his family and heritage. This is the thread that runs through Humours’ debut album ‘Learning Greek’, out this week.
Take the title track which features a recording of Christodoulidis and his father reading On Philhellenes Street by Andreas Embirikos, an essay about walking in Athens in the overwhelming heat but with the most intense light; a metaphor for suffering and the fear of death providing the inspiration for living life fully. Or ‘Memorial’which describes a scene from the Iliad in which Andromache must say goodbye to her husband Hector the night before he’s killed in battle, displaying stoicism when facing disaster.
The instrumentation complements the world that Christodoulidis has created with his lyrics. Album opener, the ferocious ‘Neighbours,’ tells of a solitary guy who is convinced that a group of mischievous creatures share his flat, deliberately doing things to make him suffer. As he descends into paranoia, he tries to destroy them by turning the oven on and letting gas fill the flat overnight. It announces the album with a wall of sound underpinned by the thunderous drums of Ruaridh Smith before bursting forth into an outpouring of frenzied vocals. The chorus is a lucid moment of calm, which only seems to intensify the impact of Christodoulidis’ pained delivery. The album is sprinkled with fascinating characters woven into dark tales, and the theme of reflecting on life as death nears occurs again and again.
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On ‘I Knew We Would Talk’ the narrator is an ageing soldier who is deciding whether to confess a secret crime to a loved one. Such darkness edges towards the macabre on ‘In the Paddies’. Here a character summons various members of the dead throughout history to rise and asks them what it would take to allow their souls to rest peacefully. The latter is a highlight, a melodic if off kilter gem, all twitchy staccato.
Elsewhere there is musings on life. The edgy ‘Aphid’ considers the ruminations one might have as death approaches. The glorious bassline (Lewis Doig) underpins the track, adding a tension almost indecipherable but impossible to ignore. ‘Learning Greek’ also explores the intensely personal. The melancholic ‘I Only Have Eyes’ featuring Theo Bleak, focuses on struggling with a bout of depression whilst surrounded by loved ones. And standout track ‘Plagiarist’ with its static fuelled guitars (Jack Lyall and Ross Patrizio) reflects on a lyricist who is under pressure to put words to music written by the band and realises that he can’t even steal lines from his favourite books because he has already used them – one hopes Christodoulidis’ bandmates are more empathetic! The hook of the chorus is utterly thrilling and is just one example on ‘Learning Greek’ of Humour evolving their sound in comparison to their two EPs ‘Pure Misery’ released November 2022 and 2023’s ‘A Small Crowd Gathered To Watch Me’ with their experimental bluster.
A mention must go to the final track, ‘It Happened In The Sun’ regarding a serial killer who murders innocents but feels sorry for himself because of the bad press he receives. When he is murdered, he laments the fact that nobody cries at his death. This is a delicate thoughtful track, an acoustic close to ‘Learning Greek’ which further demonstrates the bands exploration of more varied soundscapes.
Collaborating with producer (and Idlewild guitarist) Rod Jones at his Post Electric studio in Edinburgh, Humour have produced an album which is full of dark characters and surreal stories which although inspired by exploring Christodoulidis’ Greek roots also weaves in the theme of reflection as one moves towards death. To be clear this is far from a melancholy album, in fact it is more melodic than their EPs, but still retains the very essence of Humour, with their vividly unique view of the human condition.
8/10
Words: Julia Mason
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