An engrossing carnival of oddities from the South London trio.

★★★★☆

To the new listener, the title (and opening) track of black midi’s third album Hellfire might sound like fire and brimstone word vomit over a militaristic instrumental. And to an extent… it is. The group’s no stranger to bewildering lyrics that both intrigue and affront, but it’s different this time around. Storytelling has become increasingly more prominent in songwriting across their career, however, there’s a distinct commitment on this album for world-building – a desolate wasteland of, in guitarist and vocalist Geordie Greep’s words, “Scumbags. I don't believe in Hell, but all that old world folly is great for songs.”

Scumbag #1 is our narrator in Sugar/Tzu, a child who murders a 600-pound fighter in a futuristic boxing match accompanied by a propulsive Flight of the Bumblebee-style guitar arpeggio. The flamenco-inspired Eat Men Eat’s protagonist (Bassist Cameron Picton takes vocals here) is the victim of scumbaggery from a drunken captain of a mine who curses Picton and his lover as they escape the “the pits they called Hell” poisoned by the food they consumed.

Greep hops back on vocals for Welcome to Hell, playing the role of a dogmatic and brutal Drill Sergeant who shows the timid Private “Tristan Bongo” the horrors of war with glee, eventually discharging the “snivelling fuck”; tempo changes aplenty here and blaring, devilish horns make this a hell of a ride.

It’s no surprise these three songs were pre-released singles – there’s a clear story, nicely paced and reasonably palatable to the uninitiated. Though the following track Still (Picton lead again) with its country flavour and the beautiful ethereal end is lovely, it’s not as arresting as its predecessors so wouldn’t be a great single fare. It’s less clear a story too and feels more akin to the Black Midi of old — cryptic and mysterious.

Greep and Picton pick their parts well from song to song, the latter taking the more timid, victimised roles and the former the cocksure bastards. But I’d be remiss not to mention Morgan Simpson, destined to be one of the greatest drummers in rock history. To create drum lines so fitting, so complex and fast-paced without being overpowering or showboat-y is a genuine marvel (aided fantastically by Marta Salogni’s deftly balanced production). If only just for that, listen to this album.

The band goes full 90’s hip-hop with skit Half Time, shifting through radio channels before landing on “66.6 HELLFIRE” (remember those skits!). The interlude is aptly named, as Side B has a different feel to A.

Greep explained that if Cavalcade (the band’s second album) was a drama, Hellfire is “an epic action film”. True certainly of the first half but, if anything, the second half is a musical, full of post-punk show tunes, and showstopper cadences.

Tristan Bongo returns for The Race Is About To Begin and he’s now betting on horses. As the race starts, the track turns into a blistering rampage, Greep sounding like a demented auctioneer, spewing verbose musings at a cracking pace. Dangerous Liaisons does nothing to stop this bombardment. It tells a morality tale of a farmboy committing a contracted killing made by the devil himself. It’s fun, but even the Latin-rhythm ending can’t stop you crying out for a breather from the wild instrumental washing over you. 

Respite comes in the form of The Defence, a big band-style tune, allowing Greep to croon his way through one of the few black midi songs you can comfortably play to your nan… despite the song being about a brothel owner justifying how he makes ends meet, arguing: “without my aid, they’d be in chains / or disembowelled in a backstreet lane / I’ll stop selling when you stop buying”. Hmm, maybe the instrumental version for her birthday…

And in true showbiz finale fashion, the album concludes with 27 Questions, the middle section of which features the final performance of “Freddie Frost”, who asks close to 27 existential shower thoughts – “In Heaven, do the morals of Earth still stand? / Or can I bridge the gap twixt beast and man?”. Just before he can reach 27 though, he swells up to the size of a hot air balloon and floats away. I mean, we’ve all been there, right?.

But what does it all mean? It’s clear there’s an attempt to wrap it all up here, but there’s no real sense of an argument anywhere on the album, bar perhaps Welcome To Hell’s anti-war sentiment. I don’t really think there needs to be. Black Midi aren’t ones for crushing relatability or sloganeering. They’re showmen, as evidenced by their wild live shows; they’re tongue-in-cheek humourists who don’t take themselves too seriously. It’s 39 minutes of well-told fables of good vs evil. Just enjoy the ride. Welcome to Hell.

Hellfire is out now via Rough Trade Records.