The Artist: This Heat
This Heat formed in London in the late 70s. A trio of experimental misfits - Charles Bullen, Gareth Williams and Charles Hayward - who wanted to make music that captured the sound of collapse.
They weren’t punk. They weren’t prog. They weren’t anything you could easily categorise.
The Heat use reel-to-reel loops, junk percussion, treated vocals and disintegrating tape to build something jagged, political and deeply uneasy.
Their rehearsal space was a meat locker.
Their only studio album, Deceit, came out just as Thatcher and Reagan ramped up the fear. Nuclear paranoia was in the air. This Heat turned the unease into sound.
They split not long after. But Deceit still hums. Still protests. Still flickers with urgency.
The Record: Deceit (1981)
Deceit is not a comfortable listen. It’s tense, sharp-edged, politically charged. Like a protest broadcast.
It opens with Sleep. Muted tones and hushed vocals. A false sense of safety.
Then comes Paper Hats - all angular guitars and spoken-word panic. It’s twitchy, brilliant, barely holding together.
S.P.Q.R. is post-punk by way of machine music. Jittering rhythms, buried vocals and metallic textures.
Independence is more ambient - but even the ambience is uneasy. Voices cut in and out. Like ghosts delivering manifestos through malfunctioning speakers.
Triumph is no triumph. It’s industrial, intense, collapsing in on itself.
Throughout, the record shifts moods violently. It’s full of false endings, tape edits and sudden bursts of noise. The guitars sound nervous. The drums sound angry. The message is clear - everything is broken.
But somehow, in the chaos, there’s beauty. There’s clarity. There’s purpose.
Start With:
- Paper Hats - Angular, anxious, unforgettable
- S.P.Q.R. - Industrial panic - looped
- Sleep - Quiet dread