SickRichard
Pure Morning
SickRichard have dropped their version of Pure and it’s not the Placebo track you remember. The bones are still there, but they’ve been twisted into something heavier, stranger, and a lot more unstable. You get thick, grainy layers of analogue synth. Guitars that don’t just play, they scrape, grind, and suddenly lurch forward. Drums and bass that lock in and keep pushing while the vocal hangs overhead, half-threat, half-invitation.
It’s the kind of sound that could have been cooked up if Nine Inch Nails locked the door and Nirvana crashed the session. The song doesn’t rush. It creeps in, keeping the air tight and tense, then snaps, only to pull back and coil itself again. By the end it’s come completely apart, all edges and distortion, like it’s determined to burn through its own fuse.
It’s the kind of sound that could have been cooked up if Nine Inch Nails locked the door and Nirvana crashed the session. The song doesn’t rush. It creeps in, keeping the air tight and tense, then snaps, only to pull back and coil itself again. By the end it’s come completely apart, all edges and distortion, like it’s determined to burn through its own fuse.
This isn’t summer-playlist material for sunny afternoons. It’s the soundtrack to the night before, the bits you remember, the bits you don’t, and the strange hum that’s still in your head the next morning. People who were there for the late-90s will catch the familiar shadow. Everyone else might just get caught by the low-end groove and the way the synth swirls.
They haven’t just covered Pure Morning. They’ve cracked it open, rewired the guts, and sent it staggering out into the light with something completely new pumping through its veins.
They haven’t just covered Pure Morning. They’ve cracked it open, rewired the guts, and sent it staggering out into the light with something completely new pumping through its veins.