Reviews and quotes
"with Little Sparta he weaves an Arab Strap-esque masterpiece of aching strings and dour-toned vocals of ghosts so far from their next-life home. It's captivating, striking in its beauty and grace; Mitchell manages to convey an amazing sense of drama with a mere mumble, something that his flipside compatriots could learn something from: less, in this instance, is often more".
Drowned in Sound
"Whether bleak and gutsy, or soft and lovelorn its Gerry Mitchell's execution of his words that set this album apart from other spoken word records. He retains his identity as a poet, reciting over the elegant atmospherics that Little Sparta provide .."
Noise makes enemies
"a combination that works a treat, making for another hard to find yet thoroughly essential addition to your VP archive. Limited copies - Hurry!"
Boomkat
"Elegant, waning violins and craggy folkisms come duffle-coated by Mitchell's rich, been-there-swigged-that Highland tones, guiding us through tales of stolen identity ('Murder Mystery') and torture ('The Empress') like illuminated lily pads. (The Ragged Garden)
NME
"I’m not exaggerating when I say that The Havering could be one of the most frightening and depressing albums you ever hear, but hear it you must." (The Havering)
Tiny Voices
"these collaborators feed off of each other in strange ways, with an edge that keeps this from just poetry set to music. Neither Mitchell nor Little Sparta wants the limelight, and the record is better for it." (Scalpel slice)
Pitchfork
Little Sparta, 2007
"Elegant, waning violins and craggy folkisms come duffle-coated by Mitchell's rich, been-there-swigged-that Highland tones, guiding us through tales of stolen identity ('Murder Mystery') and torture ('The Empress') like illuminated lily pads.
Boomkat
"Imagine, if you will, a large, wet, thick, black, sticky, smelly, damp squelch; the kind that were it to land on your head, it'd slowly work its way down your skull, drip into your eyes, fill up your nostrils and force itself into your mouth. It'd slip down your throat, and into your stomach, before descending down your whole body, encasing your arms to your sides and forcing your fingers and legs together. This is how this record makes me feel. Light-hearted it ain't. Gerry Mitchell is a Scottish poet, with a thick accent, a deep vocal, and an ability to let rip a monstrously loud and controlled shout (check the track 'Agin Nature'). Not singing. Shouting.
"His writings are dark and angry. He tells tales of hatred for money, of narcotics, of terrifying dream-thoughts (“the walls are gnashing at my throat... Walking in the ruins of my own nightmare”), of man's imagined brutality (“there's been some fucked up shit through the ages, dear women covered in animal fat and beaten to death by dwarves”) and of his general “befuddlement” with his own existence. He's collaborated with musicians before (see: Scalpel Slice by Gerry Mitchell and Little Sparta), but nothing like this. This outing is performed atop the non-too-chirpy output of Tenebrous, the band of cult photographer-cum-publisher Steve Gullick. Their music is minimal, stretched and slow. They use solitary cymbals and string instruments, violin mainly, that sound like they've been rusting in a shed for ages. They make no effort whatsoever to play music in a major key, and they are deeply affecting. The combination of the two is difficult. It's a real mood dictator - testament to its power, of course. But it gives me a headache man, and makes me remember times when I've been properly sad.
"It sounds like a big, fuck-off depression. It makes me think of horror movies, and pitch black rooms with two occupants only: myself and sheer terror. It runs around the room like some weird goblin (sheer terror that is, I've given it a shape see) and it's a torture that will only end if you can catch it; but you can't, because it's on fire, and tiny, and moving at vast speeds, and I am weak and have big, clumsy hands that move slowly around the room, always one step behind. It's the cold turkey scene in Trainspotting. It's the soundtrack to the worst fucking nightmare you have ever had and ever will have, is what it is. Terrifying, astonishing, not for the faint hearted, but well worth a go, just to see how you handle it. I won't be listening to this anytime soon, I need to heal, but I'd definitely recommend it.
Tom Howard/ Play Louder reviewed on 19 Apr 2007
