I’ve enjoyed witnessing Throat’s slow, sticky metamorphosis. It’s been like finding a leathery pupa in the soil and putting it in a jam jar. You watch and watch, and at some point the thing begins to twitch and quiver. You wonder what’s inside. A moth? A butterfly? No. What slops out instead is pale and grub-like. Bulbous and segmented, fronted by ugly nipping jaws. Fuck knows quite what it is, but you throw the jam jar into the street and don’t even take the time to watch where it shatters. You just hastily close the door, and then wash your hands under very hot water. 

I guess what I’m driving at here is that, while they might occasionally hint at it, Throat aren’t really a noise-rock band anymore. Like kinsfolk Hebosagil they’ve sprawled and mutated, maintaining their strange, perverse outlook while probing their way toward an aberrant place that lingers at the intersection between goth and post-punk. ‘We Must Leave You’ sees them continue the same dimly-lit skulk they began with ‘Bareback’ and continued wit ‘Smile Less’. Things are threatening in a skeletal sort of way, all seamy bass clunk and quick flashes of straight razor guitar. Jukka Mattila’s voice is a well-oiled boom, louche and commanding. You can hear bands like The Cure, Joy Division, Swans and The Sound at play. Also, maybe, the first two Interpol albums, which might sound like a jibe but certainly isn’t meant as one. It’s gloomy, and glowering and suggestive, but also deceptively easy on the ear. This meaning that by the time you realise just how unsettling it is there’s no time left to look away: you’re in, you’re trapped, and this is how it’s going to be for at least the foreseeable future.