In fact, if they’d have presented a less gauche vocal approach (I wish the vox were more assertive, frankly) then this disc would have been closer to the stuff on prime time talent shoes than the ideas espoused by Micachu or These New Puritans...
It’s all straight forward stuff on one level and believe me it’s incredibly difficult to write any sort of review (on a purely musical level) to a record like this without waffling on about side issues or history or personalities blah blah - simply because the songs are pretty much all straight down the line punk rockers. And because ebverything is over so quickly.
I'm sure if this got played a lot on the radio it’d do really well, it’s not far off Dandy Warhol territory to be honest and I’d certainly rather listen to this on my transistor radio during my shift. Or maybe I’m getting my knickers in a twist. I’ll just enjoy it and keep playing it for now.
that’s what this LP is all about, being glossy, ridiculous, perfumed but elegant – acting out a part, made giddy by the possibility of high romance at any minute – yes with dirty fingernails and soiled cuffs but able to charm the preppy girl who’s just crossed the Place de République wearing shades and a miniskirt and with Le Grande Meaulnes tucked under her arm.
Tucker’s voice is the key throughout the record; it’s often pitched fairly high and the notes are held as long as possible as if to create a sort of monkish drone, a plainchant that also doubles as a sort of “troubadour’s lament” when needed.
This hazy, electronic number is fairly representative of the album's mood, but it is punctuated by the occasional spasm from a clap drum that hangs there, awkward as a fart in church and so many drum fills that you would swear you were listening to the chorus of “In the Air Tonight” by Phil Collins on repeat. Otherwise, it's a great song.
This album stretches the band’s musical talent and the entire album plays out more like a rock orchestra than a trio. They experiment with electronic melodies and even a retro Stylophone gets an airing on Doesn’t Believe in Angels.
This time Bowerbirds have been able to flex their muscle fully in regard to how they use their instruments and experiment with sounds. A throb of strings, horns and percussion in the likes of In the Yard and Death Wish make The Clearing their most colourful and sophisticated album yet.
Once again Sinead O’Conner has become something bigger and more profound than a news headline or a retweet.
Jordan Gatesmith does have the same indifference and gruff voice as the Strokes frontman, but that’s where the similarities end. Instead we’re transported to California , with surf rock riffs and high-spirited hand claps.
a perfect accompaniment to any Sunday morning, whether you’re just getting in or just waking up
Now and again there’s an attempt to rouse the troops, such with as Another Bed, or Kill It In The Morning. But even then the record seems to feel more comfortable to work out its existence in a minor key. It may be grim but it’s sustaining stuff.
It’s the simplicity which makes their music so brilliant, there’s absolutely no fat or indulgence anywhere – like a Liberty Ship, things are built on the most basic and hardened of elements
Cumbia is essentially happy, party music and one that spans a great deal of variants from electric, pysch/psychedelic, big band, traditional music and traditional dance accompaniments. This is stuff you should be cutting some rug and getting pissed to, to be frank.
(That feeling of) whacky pastoralism may very well be totally in thrall to Henry Cow but sod it; it’s all enormously appealing music after a couple of spins. Well worth five minutes of your time.
I really like this a lot. It’s daft, transient music that isn’t hung up about having fun, and human enough to win you round.
This is a magnificent album and those who think that ambient electronica / musique concrète is a dry intellectual medium, think again.
Wege is a tactile and elemental record, one that is sensual; not really looking to jump out at you but it’s incredibly charming nonetheless
It’s quite a psychedelic record in its own right. In places the sort of sun-bleached, washed out psychedelics found on Tim Buckley or Gene Clark LPs dominate - but the sounds harnessed to create this feeling are great and very much their own master
a strange and rather beautiful concoction