Older music fans will remember The Cravats. First formed back in the late 70s, they went on to become a staple of the post-punk scene, championed by John Peel and coming across like some dadaist version of Crass meets The Specials. Weird, but so much fun. One founder member, The Shend, who at six foot three tended to dominate the stage, was also responsible for the bulk of the lyrics. In 2013, after a couple of hiccups and following the release of their back catalogue – which reminded folks just how good they were – The Cravats took on new band members, including Joe 91.

Now jump forward to 2020. The country is in lockdown and the band, now based in Brighton, is unable to practise. The Shend and Joe 91, bursting with creativity, decide to combine the musical ideas they’ve been working on. From their separate bunker locations, they digitally combine Joe 91’s electronica workouts and soundscapes with The Shend’s snatches of jotted down lyrics. The collaboration results in the album ‘I’ve Lost My Footing On The World’, released on the Brighton-based label, Cupboard Music. Its coming together of English eccentricity and German industrial techno proves intriguing – not least to the two themselves, who have followed it with their new offering: ‘What You Think Is All You’ve Got’.

Anzahlung – which translates into English as Down Payment or, perhaps more relevantly for their initial release, First Instalment – categorized their sound thus; “Bleak beats, austere audio, doom disco, succubus swing.” More recently The Shend summed up the feel of ‘What You Think Is All You’ve Got’ as “Raucous. Toe-tapping. Unnerving”. He’s certainly not wrong, with track after track on the album pressing all three buttons.

It kicks off with ‘PET’, where a hard, galloping beat leads us into a disturbing, yet eminently dancey, song about possession and control: “Pet, I haven’t finished with you yet. Pet, and don’t forget, I own you, I own you, I own you.” Next up is ‘Boneless Man’: “I’m a boneless, boneless man; falling over is my master plan.” Although superficially a bouncier, more light-hearted affair, beneath the glitchy beat and comic refrain, is an underlying sadness, as the eponymous – lockdown? – character sends himself messages on his mobile so that he doesn’t feel so alone. ‘Too Famous’ follows, a self-deprecating take on fame which steers close to Fall-esque rockabilly.

The tracks keep coming. ‘Can Be Happy’ returns us to the darker grinding thud of the opening track, while in ‘Ghost’, the lyrics fall back and the atmosphere becomes even more menacing; a clamour of voices set against pounding beats and electronic screech and wail. The horror continues with ‘Have You Any Ha Ha Ha?’, the echoing question dissolving into derisory laughter, as the protagonist tries to navigate the day to day, where even “getting on the train is a bit of a worry.”

‘Junkers’ is slower and laced with sorrow. The vocals transmute into a dark, rasping whisper, as the ghostly story of a pilot of a German WW2 combat aircraft unfolds. Then, with ‘Fan Out’ – one of the most intriguing tracks on the album – we’re back to the unnerving combination of harsh techno leavened by jocular lyrics as a booming voice issues orders: “If you move down to the treeline, fan out, move into the wood, checking the undergrowth with your stakes… There’s a press conference at 8pm. Let’s give them good news.” This is countered by one of those trying to evade capture. “I don’t think they’re going to find us.” ‘Can’t Take It With You’, is again lighter, frothier – “Can’t take it with you… give it away!” The Bonzos meet Can, perhaps; the message: don’t let wealth mess you up.

‘Cliff’ with its rolling arpeggio is a more uplifting track, with a line that should be in a self-help manual: “You need to stand on the edge of the cliff, to realise you don’t want to jump any more”. Title track, ‘What You Think Is All You’ve Got’ starts off with more swirling electronic sounds, then insistent drums, before revealing the fact that what you have got is “Diddly squat. You’re probably wrong. A melting pot, where you don’t belong.” Next up is ‘You Won’t Come Back’ an insistently rhythmic track with one of those reductive statements that, once heard, is hard to shift: “If you head down that road, that’s the road you’re going to head down.” Fatuous nonsense or profound wisdom? Who can say? The track ends with a kid saying “Goodbye” – but it’s not all over yet.

Last up is bonus track, ‘Don’t Open The Door’, which brings us full circle. Not only does it recall the menace of opener ‘PET’, but it also offers a nod back to an old Cravats song, ‘Bury The Wild’. The song is deeply creepy, with a maelstrom of noise, creaking hinges and a voice encouraging us to “open the door”. We know we shouldn’t of course, but like those horror movies where the hapless protagonist goes down into the cellar, by now it is too late.

So, thirteen songs, admirably fulfilling the remit of “raucous, toe-tapping and unnerving”. It is an album of quirky lyrics, in the tradition of English wordsmiths from Syd Barrett and Ray Davies through to Mark E. Smith – and with an added dash of Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett delivery; combined with the irresistible beats of the electronic music they’re set against, recalling Kraftwerk, Neu!, DAF, Einstürzende Neubauten and Suicide. Contemporary acts that roughly fall in the same ball park include Blanck Mass, Audiobooks and Scalping. And yet, despite the influences worn so proudly on their sleeves, Anzahlung have, with ‘What You Think Is All You’ve Got’, produced something that is totally their own.

We’re looking forward to seeing – and dancing to them – live. In the meantime, check out the album, released on FOAD Music, for yourself here.