Storm Static Sleep: A Pathway Through Post Rock

by Jack Chuter

Pram were, and still are, an interesting case. Where so many post-rock groups founded themselves on the philosophy of post-punk and post-hardcore, Pram’s roots were fuzzier: a thin patch of intersection between jazz, krautrock, pop, 80s horror soundtracks and the playful post-punk of The Raincoats and The Slits. Personally, I also heard whiffs of old Wurlitzer carousel waltzes and VHS tapes of kids’ birthday parties in the 50s. Nothing was played straight. There isn’t a single track in the Pram discography that doesn’t carry a glint of the perverse, be it a drumbeat played with the flinching staccato of a mechanical puppet, the repetitive woops of electronic toys or the babbling of instruments lost to the folds of time (such as the omnichord: a keyless electro-harp played via a touch-sensitive strip, made by motorbike manufacturer Suzuki). The closest Pram had to a contemporary was probably fellow Birmingham band Broadcast, whose lo-fi electronics burped out of dangerously exposed wiring, while the late Trish Keenan sent her smoky jazz orations billowing over the top.