It's not Spring here and I'm not sure who came up with this but I'm super excited by the idea. I don't really know what 'meme' is (the thing from which this idea came) but I like it; it strengthens communities, builds friendship and issues positive vibes for one and all. So thank you Lawson, for tagging me. Now, for my super sonic seven, I choooooooooose you Claude & Power, Hippodrome, Faux Pas, Fortune Grey, Music For Robots, Turkish Crystals and A Low Hum.
Jeremy Jay is tall and young. Our handsome, alabaster young gent has just put out his debut album on K Records. It sounds like the trees hanging over streets at night, streetlight dappled through. What's in the air when yr walkin' on air? He likes diners, rides in cars, romance, Buddy Holly. Based around a fairly stark working of piano, guitar, bass, and drums, his nocturnal pop is modern in it’s own wonky way. Jeremy’s classiness is balanced by a post-punk sort of disaffectedness, held afloat with an unbridled romanticism.
Those futuristic sludgy beats come off as subterranean as ever in the middle of Debt Dept., surrounded by alien knob-twiddles and drugged out underwatery vibes. Those liquidy sounds bump along right there off the chain, the last dance with marijuana smoke drifting up.
Spookiness was manufactured on the LP Pocahaunted put out before this one (that one was Island Diamonds) but this one is pure cold sun; 15 minutes of hallowed guitars, locked at a particular tone of the otherwordly but with a non-climax opening large wooden doors of serenity and melody. Neo-new age gems glitter amongst the murk, rainbow scarves and moccasins, semi-primitivist DIY afflictions in the desert form a soft and distant lament
The other day me and my m8s went to have Yum Cha to celebrate my other m8 Shea's birthday. I was standing outside a dairy whose primary sponsor is V energy drinks and I was wearing blue jeans, grey tshirt and red and black flannel shirt. Shea came along and instead of talking about how happy his birthday was we were like 'oh no/LOL' because he was wearing the same strand of flannel, red and black. We went inside and then Ashlin came and lo and behold she was wearing the same exact flannel as Shea and nearly the same one as me. It was hilarious.
In Finland, free noise floats differently, it's rural dirge, clods of damp Autumn leaves, and then the ponds that sit there in the morning with a slow thick fog on top. One morning Jan Anderzen and Jani Hirvonen wandered into the woods and found a damp organ sitting in the moss and played it.
An awkward hamfisted teenage sentiment ala Blink 182 backs this scattery pop/punk jam. "There's a reason I'm afraid of you and I don't know what it is". TEEN/ADULT ANGST, woes, everyone has them. It wobbles, whirls, Mr. Reatard is wild and nasal and has those Clean-esque trebely keyboards and weird whatever-foreigny-fast-guitar-strums (Italian? You know, those serenady romantic vibes) and the usual signature of his sound: the backing vocals (sung by him?) in a different tones from the lead. It's like 90% pop and 10% punk and he seems to do it better with each single.
This song tastes like, well, I don't know, a feijoa? Actually, the first time I listened to this was at the office where I worked doing data entry for three weeks. I was real glad I had my headphones on because all my flan colleagues would've thought I was a REAL F'n weirdo with this wailey crap coming out of the computer speakers. It swirled around in there (my head) with the numbers and the addresses and the other miscellaneous datas with those strained notes and bent guitars. Commanding, for sure; some sort of wild requiem, a claustrophobic and dizzying call to arms.