Fairy tales are usually far fetched; roots of folklore sprouting upwards in imagination, bent towards the light beneath the blackness of distress, hurt and anger. Rarely does the tale unfold without dread pervading, and Brighton trio Esben and The Witch - whose name’s derived from a Danish fairytale - harness this brooding aesthetic and bend it to their will. Twisting bleak narratives around intimidating, atmospheric guitar lines, Rachel Davies ethereal wails and sparse, climatic instrumentals, their newest EP evokes as much the topography of shadowy tundra’s as the distressing stillness of a midnight darkened room. 

Paced deliberately, it also further cements the buzz that has grown around the band since their genesis from eerie Kylie covers to Deerhunter tour mates and now  - a move which speaks volumes - their arrival on Matador, for whom this is their first EP. First track ‘The Marching Song’ sets out stall, an insistent guitar riff dimly glowing amongst the gloom of Davies hole punched battlefield, percussion building and building all the while. Her enunciated words are those of an onlooker, until slowly anxiety holds, the momentum breaks, and as quickly as it started the onslaught of reverberating, shoegaze guitar dissipates to silence. 

It’s a bewitching beginning, but if ‘The Marching Song’ toys with the notion of pop, clasping it’s beating heart and squeezing it black, the EP’s other tracks (’Done Because We Are Too Menny’ and ’Souvenirs’) reanimate the corpse with a new, more dusty beat. Now hushed, reverent almost, their sound bleeds slower, Davies voice floats further, and they explore the menace of desolation the likes of which Portishead, or Aphex Twin at his more melancholy, are known to dwell on. Thoughtful and brooding, if EATW’s fairytales not one to end happily, it’s likely the climax will be all the more sweet. - Alex Hibbert

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