Labels: Limited Appeal
Review by: Alex Deller
Seems like Tile haven’t gotten any friendlier or any prettier in the years since we last saw them. In some regards ‘Come On Home, Stranger’ starts as it means to go on, swinging lumpen sludge punk riffs at your head and howling with a sense of life-blunted desperation. Thing is, though, the album gets grumpier and more unsteady as it progresses: the surging lurch moves from stumblingly anguished to increasingly aggressive, with the tipping point seeming to be the Gun-Club-gone-noise-rock of ‘Flammable Human’. It’s like they stopped off for a pint after work to let off some steam only to find themselves six boilermakers deep and ranting in the ear of whoever’s next to them at the bar. In this instance it’s you receiving the drunken, spittle-flecked harangue, and the results sway from entertaining to threatening so unpredictably that it might well be sensible to take your drink elsewhere.