Mold E​.​P

by The Immediate

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Track 5: Runny Nose (live acoustic session track 1995)- bonus track.

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Featuring exclusive sleeve art depicting Shire Hall, Mold by Paul Maurice.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Mold E.P via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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about

THE IMMEDIATE
Mold EP / released Fri 3rd March 2017

Adam Walton (guitar & vocals) / Richard Harrison (bass & vocals) / Duncan Farmer (drums & vocals)

We are The Immediate, a three-piece indie band from Mold in north Wales.

We release our Mold EP on Friday 3rd March 2017. The EP will be available to buy on limited edition CD and digitally via bandcamp / iTunes / Spotify etc.

Mold features 4 brand new recordings, 3 of which are exclusive to the EP.

The EP is inspired by our years growing up and going to school in Mold, an unremarkable – to the wider world, but very remarkable to us – market town in northeast Wales, UK.

Lead track, What’s The Matter Kevin Jones?, is a song about some of the kids we went to the Alun School, Mold with, who weren’t as fortunate as us and didn’t make it into their 30’s. 

Light Dimensions is the first song we wrote when we reconvened after a long hiatus.

Manbuoy is the title track of our forthcoming debut album, however it does not feature on the album itself. It’s a mostly spoken-word piece that exaggerates all of its writer’s worst qualities.

Mold was recorded at Orange Sound Studios in Penmaenmawr, North Wales by Russ Hayes, who has worked on recordings by Peaness, Campfire Social, Kidsmoke, Catfish and the Bottlemen and Billy Bibby and the Wry Smiles.

The EP sleeve was designed by Paul Maurice (ex-Gallops) from Wrexham. It’s a detail of Shire Hall, the brutalist former seat of Flintshire County Council that sits on a hill, above Mold town centre.

The Mold EP will be launched at a hometown gig at Theatr Clwyd, Mold on Friday, 3rd. March. We’ll be joined by our friends Campfire Social and Skellums. Tickets are £7 and available here:

www.theatrclwyd.com/en/whats-on/headliner-rock-night/

Mold EP tracklisting (r/d 3rd March 2017):

1. What’s The Matter Kevin Jones?
2. Light Dimensions
3. Tremble
4. Manbuoy

If you have any further enquiries, please contact:
theimmediateband@gmail.com

facebook.com/theimmediate
twitter.com/the_immediate

There is a YouTube video telling the story of the band so far, here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EtERsE3ihDg

Thank you for listening,

Adam, Duncan and Richard.

We originally split in 1997 due to frustration, an argument over a mouth organ and the success of Stereophonics.

We released one single (unaccountably popular in Sweden), made every conceivable mistake in the How To Be A Successful Indie Band handbook, toured with some excellent bands (Mansun, 60ft Dolls, Dodgy) and flickered out, leaving behind the memory of some great gigs, a few fine songs, and little else.

In March 2016, we reconvened to repair friendships and renew tinnitus. New songs came much more easily than the old ones, probably because we are playing to please only ourselves - with no thoughts of success or acclaim - for the first time in our existence.

There is more truth and resonance in our songs now than ever before. And power. And invention. We write songs about hope and love in the face of the moribund, daily grind.

You will possibly hear fragments and echoes of the following artists in our sound (The Jam, Wire, XTC, Pixies, Badfinger, REM, Dr Feelgood, Small Faces, Husker Du, The Who, Ride, Big Star, The Cure, Joy Formidable, The Go-Betweens, Teenage Fanclub), but nothing has been plagiarised or misappropriated to mask a deficiency of our own ideas.

credits

released March 3, 2017

Adam Walton (guitar & vocals) / Richard Harrison (bass & vocals) / Duncan Farmer (drums & vocals) / Mike Davies (guitar and vocals on track 5) / Russ Hayes (engineer) / Alan Daulby (engineer on track 5)

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about

The Immediate Wales, UK

The Immediate are a three-piece indie / power pop band from Mold in north Wales.

We’re unfashionably passionate about guitars, love and truth. The songs on the EP are a clarion call of defiance in the face of poverty, breakdown and loneliness. They’re songs of experience that fight tooth and nail to cling on to innocence and hope. ... more

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Track Name: What's The Matter Kevin Jones?
I thought we could be anything,
If we followed every rule.
But Quadrophenia at 12,
Was your bible and your school.
We all knew…
Said we knew…

I found me in the library,
You terrorised the underpass.
The flying fists of Mold’s Bruce Lee,
There was a fag burn on your hands.
From your mam…
From your mam…

What’s the matter Kevin Jones?
Did you ever have a chance?
Your dad would fight the chippy kids
Pissed up every Friday night

What’s the matter Kevin Jones?
Your fingers stank of stolen fags,
I used to dream of hurting you
But you took that out my hands.

TV is blaring.
Is anyone in?
Your dog starts howling.
Neighbours complaining.
Police are called in.
The door is smashed in.
You stare at the ceiling,
Forever at the ceiling…
Track Name: Light Dimensions
A grey mist settled over golden sunrise dreams.
I’d stopped believing there was more than what I’d seen.
You thawed the fog and ran i through with lazer beams.
I’m resurrected so don’t back away from me…

Don’t want more good intentions,
Don’t need no bad vibrations,
You are illumination,
I need your light dimensions.

I woke unsettled from a pitch black broken dream.
I couldn’t see my heart for tangled winter trees.
You stopped the rot and brought me hope where there was none.
I’d be there still if I’d not been warmed by your sun…

Don’t want more good intentions,
Don’t need no bad vibrations,
You are illumination,
I need your light dimensions.
Track Name: Tremble
Hanging in the darkest corners
Shaking with a glass in my hand
Shadows have the kinder faces
Kind of looks I understand

Tremble at the slightest change
Tremble at a direct eye
Tremble when the spotlight hits me
Tremble when I’m out my hide

Laughing just a second after
Long enough to die inside
Mouth is dry of words and humour
Head is full of buzzing flies

Tremble at the slightest change
Tremble at a direct eye
Tremble when the spotlight hits me
Tremble when I’m out my hide
Tremble though I’m made of iron
Tremble like a bridge of steel
Tremble works its way inside me
Tremble makes the world too real
Track Name: Manbuoy
I don’t even bother with breakfasts anymore
What’s the point when I don’t burn the fuel?
Except by watching TV
In the living room
With the curtains pulled tightly shut
Hoping Lorraine Kelly is wearing something revealing
And I never have to meet her face to face
God, that’d be embarrassing.
For both of us.

My wife’s out, she’s working, it’s a proper job with a posh car
I’ll pretend to be affronted if she dares to ask
How my day has been?
With an inflection that suggests she knows that I’m adrift upon
A tide of dreams so past their sell by date
They smell like my Doctor Martens
From 1986
I was an indie kid
I liked The Smiths
Like everybody did
But I thought that U2 were better
I keep that mostly to myself these days

Oooh, I’m the manboy, smell of fun oil, stale cigarettes, and last night’s Stella, if you sniff my breath
Oooh, I’m the manboy, fuelled by soft dreams, no reality, just a cup of tea and a pair of bootcut kecks

We have a nice house, it’s quite big
I’m pretty sure it must clean itself
Perhaps there are robots in the cupboard?
That cupboard
I never open it
I have my songs to write
And there’s a novel
Up here somewhere

But some mornings I can’t find the inspiration.

I go back to bed and wonder what to write about, but it’s like looking for butterflies in Tescos.

I thought smoking a bit of weed might help, but I freaked out when the gas man came round to read the meter.

He had massive jowls. Like saddlebags. And I knew what he was thinking. Just cos I’m still in my dressing gown at 1 o clock doesn’t mean I’m not working, mate. Some of us are thinkers, some of us are do-ers.

Someone had to invent the gas and the meters, Spannerhead… wouldn’t have been you, would it?

I play a bit of Skyrim. I love walking in the mountains, in the snow. Shooting fireballs at deer.

And maybe I’ll watch something on NowTV. It’s good for the imagination, isn’t it? Stories. I’m filtering them all in and then, one day, boom… my own story will evolve out the primeval gloop in my head.

I like old X Files. They’re tightly plotted, and she’s fit, isn’t she? and I used to love the alien conspiracy ones.

I believed, I really did. I’d seen lights above the hills when I was a kid.

Oooh, I’m the manboy, and my blood boils, when the world that I ignore hard, doesn’t bend to me
Oooh, I’m the manboy, I’ve never voted, what’s the point they never listen, to the nothings that I say

[turn the page]

My wife is pregnant
I’m sort of terrified.
Her dad looks at me like he found me violating his favourite greyhound, Pickles, over the bar at the local conservative club.

They read The Daily Mail. They think the Bulgarians are coming to steal their house. Or their daughter. But I’m the one who did that.

She knew what she was getting into
When she met me
I’m still the same guy.
I haven’t changed. Why would I?

I’d rather kill myself than end up in a call centre. I’ve read Sartre and Baudelaire, for Christ’s sake! And Langland and Spenser and Blake and Coleridge and Wordsworth.

I understood some of them.

I’d have got a 2:1 if it hadn’t been for ‘The Band’. When all the drones were queuing for lectures I was out there, living… chasing a dream. Going to gig in Rhyl, and Newport and Lancaster. And… well… that’s been it, so far.

It’s harder than working in a bank, though, isn’t it? She trains people about finance. I write songs that make hearts bleed?

How many hearts? Well not many, yet. It’s all dance music these days, isn’t it?
But it’ll come back round. Lads and guitars. Timeless, innit? Just wait and see.
Like The Roses. Or Oasis.

Or The Courteeners.

Oooh, I’m the manbuoy, I’ll never grow up,
Because the world that they bequeathed me,
Doesn’t want my flaccid dreams
Oooh, I’m the manbuoy, and I’m floating,
On the surface, clinging on to, myself for dear life.