There’s been a quiet, understated hype around Tiny Hawks the last six months or so, the kind that’s easily missed and almost shamefaced in its enthusiasm. It’s not, thankfully, the by-now-familiar product of overzealous whippersnappers spending their collective load over internet-only bands they’re quick to demolish mere weeks later, but the kind that creeps by itself regardless of test press frenzies or shameless self-promotion. Perfect, then, for a label like Moganono, home to the unsung greatness of Anton Bordman, Ettil Vrye and Kolya, all of whom share some measure of Tiny Hawks’ sound and spirit.
Slipped from it’s splendid sleeve and whumped down on the turntable Fingers Become Bridges pins you down from the off, firing off nimble, scattergun riffs and frantic drum clatters with gay abandon, taking a rough-handed, percussive approach to music that seems to be felt rather than played, intuited and attacked rather than mapped out with clinical finesse. The result is somewhere between Off Minor’s noodlesome expeditions and the hoarse urgency of Twelve Hour Turn, a battered and blazing combination that jets by all too swiftly. Tearing, runaway trails of riffs tail off into tangles of prettiness and forlorn yells root their owners to the ground and puncture holes in the sky above, cramming this one-sided record with enough clever touches to keep you guessing whilst remaining unashamedly punk at heart, backing up the weight of their music with words and ideas to match, rounding off what is indeed a beautifully striking record on every level.