Miles Kane returns to form with Coup de Grace

words fae Oliver Butler (@notoliverbutler)

Appearing from the wilderness when we needed him most, Miles Kane has returned to sprinkle his whimsical indie magic over us with new album, Coup De Grace. As per usual, it’s a smorgasbord of interesting & exciting tracks, with the odd filler track hither and dither.

It’s been five long damn years since the release of the patchy but palatable Don’t Forget Who You Are, with Miles having fun in The Last Shadow Puppets, or just generally enjoying being a rockstar, including playing in a Beatles tribute band with Matt Bellamy of Muse. How do you spend your free time?

In an interview with Annie Mac prior to the release of lead single Loaded, the Scouse sonic sorcerer hinted that we’d see a plethora of influences, most interestingly, something that sounds like the Ramones. To which you probably screamed “Bollocks! Miles Kane? Punk? Get away with you”, or more likely went “nice, that’ll be good, maybe”. However, for the percentage of you that screamed bollocks, prepare to be blown away by album opener Too Little Too Late.

It’s Miles Kane alright, but it’s a raughty (raunchy and naughty) punk track to get the album off to a strong start. It’s classic punk, with the frantic, yet simple chords and the structure of the chorus. It’s hard to say the Ramones are an influence on your album and back it up, but with Too Little Too Late, it walks the walk. It’s not a loose bastardisation of a punk song, with the chorus being crooned in Miles’ familiar style, and up-pitch guitar. It sets the standard for the rest of the album, but fortunately, everything else is up to code and doesn’t slip straight down the cliff after the opener.

Even in the weaker parts of this album, even the most casual of Miles Kane fans can take heart knowing that where the tunes are good, the Greatest Showman himself will take these tracks and turn them up to 11 on the live stage. And that’s pretty fucking comforting, knowing how good these songs sound, they’re going to sound twice as better live.

As we do these days, plenty of singles were dropped prior to the album’s release, so let’s take a gander at some brand new bangers. Cold Light Of Day is stunning and follows the same sort of punk-based blueprint as Too Little Too Late, but this is more classic Miles Kane. Again, with many modern albums, it’s hard to work out if it’s an advance in production techniques and sound, or whether everyone’s stepped their game up, because Coup De Grace is miles (HA!) better than Don’t Forget Who You Are, which, although with a few fillers, it was largely killer. Whisper it quietly, but this is even better than Colour of the Trap.

There’s a slightly sentimental vein running through the album, not surprising considering that the writing process for this album was kick-started by Miles having a breakup. However, the first single off the album, Loaded is probably one of the weakest songs on the album, penned about the protagonist’s girlfriend failing to save him, and the first one he wrote off the back of his breakup. At the time it fairly whetted the appetite for a new album, but looking back on it now it pales in comparison to the rest of the album. Even having melancholic maestro Lana Del Rey co-writing the song couldn’t save it from being lackluster. It just doesn’t land, you know? It sort of just fades into the background.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e53GyXCgys]

Keeping the microscope on breakups and new tracks, you’ll be hard pressed to find a track better than Killing The Joke on this album. One of Miles’ strengths is playing a slightly soulful acoustic track, in the vein of Colour of the Trap and Out of Control. It’s quite emotional, and a little bit self-deprecating, it’s nice, there’s a sort of ballroom slow dance feel to it at the start, bathed in dim light, fading into nothingness. There’s even a shout out to Bruce Forsyth with “it’d be nice to see you, to see you nice” in the first verse. Want any proof it’s a good album? There’s a fucking Brucie Bonus on it, name another album with a Brucie Bonus on it.

The new, new songs have a lot of grunt to them, but if you’re looking for a high water mark, or a stand out track, you’re out of luck, because it’s a straight-up scrap between Cry On My Guitar; a dick swinging anthem that swaggers its way through your ears, or title track Coup de Grace, which has a real darkened boudoir feel to it. The vocal style on Coup de Grace particularly is very similar to his friend Alex’s vocal style on a recent album by Arctic Monkeys. Whether the chicken or the egg came first on this vocal delivery is insignificant, as the smooth, velveteen vocals on Coup de Grace really make it, layered over the deep, grooving bass like icing on a sponge cake.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffkom6CLA78]

It’s hard to find a weak point on this album, sure, you might find you spend less time with a track like Shavambacu, the title which reminds you of the “fre shavac ado” vine, rather than something like Cry On My Guitar, but is that a bad thing? No, Coup de Grace’s problem is that there are some inch-perfect tracks on there, which means the tracks that aren’t inch perfect don’t entice you as much. It’s a nice problem to have, that an album has so many perfect tracks, the really good tracks just seem a little less appetising.

Lyrically, you could say it leaves you wanting, but coming to Miles Kane for poignant lyrics and insights on the modern world is like coming to Socrates for his philosophy on drinking cans and wearing skinny jeans; you don’t really come to expect much substance from either. What you come to him for is some dancy tunes, the occasional acoustic banger, and the live show. However, lyrically, he told the BBC that “it’s very personal”, so the story we hear on the record may have completely different meaning to him than it does to us. It’s also quick to poke fun at the comment that he called it his “Adele album”, but from the content & theme of the tracks, it’s quite easy to see what he means; it’s inspired by heartbreak, something that Adele does second class to none.

Shavambacu is the album’s closer, and a common theme in these reviews is making sure the credits roll with a good track, and this is no exception. It’s quite melancholic, with a real “walking through London in the rain feel to it”. Lyrically it feels like the protagonist is pining for their love, and it’s quite a sweet song reflecting and lamenting on missing your lover. Absolutely no fucking clue what Shavambacu means, closest Google Translate offers is that shavambacu is a Malayan word, and is Malayan for shavambacu.

On the whole, the album feels like a complete departure from Don’t Forget Who You Are, and even Colour of the Trap. It still feels like it’s got the familiar Miles Kane feel, but tracks like Silverscreen, with a frantic tempo and strained vocal from Miles feel as far away from his blueprint as possible. However, in the unfamiliarity comes excitement; this is a new sound from Miles, and though “Coup de Grace” is French for “the final blow” (thanks, Google Translate!), fingers crossed that this isn’t the final blow from Miles, and we see something similar to this in the near future.

Album Review: Merzbow & HEXA – Achromatic

words fae liam toner (@tonerliam)rating 8

Recently a friend of mine asked me how people tell the difference between good and bad harsh noise music. A fair question as for non-listeners of the genre a top 10 list of the best noise albums must seem like a list of top 10 TV static screens or a list of top 10 loudest power drills. However, nearly 40 years into his career Japanese noise musician Merzbow has released almost 300 albums where some are considered absolute staples of the genre such as Pulse Demon and Venereology (not to mention his discography with numerous collaborators) whereas many more fall into forgotten obscurity.

This newest album titled Achromatic is another collaboration, this time with the group HEXA. HEXA are an industrial/dark ambient group featuring Jamie Stewart of cult indie experimentalists Xiu Xiu and Lawrence English. HEXA’s most recent output was a sort of soundtracking of David Lynch’s factory photography. The pair created music that was droning and mechanical, creating lifeless soundscapes that perfectly fit Lynch’s photography.

The title Achromatic itself is a good hint of how the album will sound. Western music typically is made up of twelve semitones and is the basis for all our scales and chords. These twelve notes together are known as the chromatic scale. What Merzbow is doing with this title is giving the listener fair warning that what they’re getting into is a piece of music that is devoid of melody and rhythm and is reduced to something that is purely textural and, thanks to HEXA, rather atmospheric.

The album is split into two parts. The first side Merzhex being produced by HEXA and the second half with the track Hexamer was produced by Merzbow. This choice was quite an interesting move as it gives each a distinctive sound and it allows the listener to see how each artist interprets the work. The core of this release is made up of a few elements: the sonic chaos of Merzbow’s feedbacking harsh noise and HEXA’s low droning synthesisers and distant industrial sounds.

Despite being a noise project Achromatic is basked in atmosphere (at times it sounds like field recordings are being used) and it’s this atmosphere that makes the album so interesting. The combination of the two artists sounds complement each other greatly and throughout listening I find myself imagining all sorts of scenes and environments. HEXA’s droning dark ambient elements form the base of the whole sound, creating an atmosphere and giving the music a sense of slow progression. Merzbow’s signature noise elevates the atmosphere to something truly otherworldly, at times it becomes quite hard to even tell the different elements apart as they combine to create a maelstrom of blaring sound. The combination of these sounds gives the album an ice cold and impenetrable vibe.

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Merzhex 2 sounds like being trapped in a huge glacier in the arctic. While trapped inside you can hear the winds batter off the sides and the slow rumbling bass synthesisers imitating the cracking, groaning sound of the glacier moving slowly across the Arctic. Merzhex 3 conjures up the image of a desolate and unforgiving frozen wasteland. H.P. Lovecraft’s ‘At the Mountains of Madness’ came to mind when listening to this track; a story where a group of Antarctic explorers discover a mountain range in a treacherous environment even larger than the Himalayas. In further discovery, they find a mysterious and ancient alien city where the explorers would discover secrets that would lead them to death or utter madness.
Since there is nothing else to go off except from basic titles this album is infinitely interpretative and allows the listeners mind to run free as they are engulfed by the cold sounds of buzzing and cacophonous electronics

Reviewing industrial and harsh noise music can be a fruitless activity. For a start, trying to describe the musical qualities of something devoid of musicality and essentially being a form of anti-music is slightly pointless and honestly, a wee bit daft. Noise also tends to be highly divisive and the idea that some people actively enjoy and even try to review, some would find laughable. To some listeners, the experience can be cathartic and mesmerising but to others, it’s simply one thing: not music, and in a way, they are correct. It would be untrue for me to claim that Achromatic is a brilliantly composed piece of music.

However, what Merzbow and HEXA have released here makes for an engaging listen that also works as a blank canvas to derive your own meaning from. Or maybe you’ll just think it sounds like a big loud pile of nonsense, either way, the combination of each artists sound and the excellent production make this one of the more stands out releases in Merzbow’s gargantuan discography and if you have an open mind then it’s well worth checking out.

Kevin P. Gilday & The Glasgow Cross meld indie music with spoken word on ‘Experience Essential’

words fae jen hughes (@dearoctopus4)rating 7

Experience Essential is the debut album from Kevin P. Gilday & The Glasgow Cross, a collaboration between spoken word performer Kevin P. Gilday and multi-instrumentalist Ralph Hector. It’s a kaleidoscope of poetry and colourful indie music, and one of the strangest albums you’re ever likely to hear. Picture this: you’re at a party. You are stoned, not enough to be out of it but just enough to go with the flow. You meet some guy in the smoker’s area, and you could sit and listen to this guy’s smooth accent all day. Because you’re a bit intoxicated, you don’t pick up everything but the nuggets you do speak to you on a deeper level. This is how best to describe this album.

It isn’t really rap music. Where rap music marches to the beat, spoken word floats alongside it at a leisurely pace. It does not try and stay on the beat because that is not the point. Each track is a window into Kevin P. Gilday’s life, from his experiences on Glasgow’s surprisingly enthusiastic poetry scene (The Plates Keep Spinning… pt 1 & pt 2; I’ve Fallen Out of Love With Poetry), his working class upbringing (To Live and Die in Denniston) to his political leanings (How To Spot A Tory) and his commentary on masculinity (Me, Masculine Me; Hitler’s Moustache). His poetry tends to be more humorous but also self-effacing and self-aware. The songs themselves tend to stick to only one or two musical ideas or motifs and don’t stray far from these within the track. Each track’s musicality is varied enough, and tracks don’t drag on for long enough that this would be a problem. To listeners whose primary interest lies in poetry, this is not a concern anyway as spoken word still takes precedence here.

The spoken word/music combination is a hard sell and is difficult to pull off, especially if you’ve heard any of William Shatner’s cover songs: they are hilarious. While there are a few weaker tracks in Experience Essential, where the musical ideas do not work as well with the spoken word, the majority of the album is reasonably enjoyable. For the most part, Gilday and Hector can bring the two aspects together to a good standard, though there are some tracks that didn’t work well to the point where it distracted from what was being said. With these tracks, it’s a case of two ideas not working well as a combination but fine separately.

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Out of all the singles to be released, Atheist’s Prayer is a particular highlight. A smooth, melancholic synth accompanies Gilday as he asks the opening line, “Who do the atheists pray to?”. It sounds like rain and smoke. Gilday’s performance of this song is passionate, and the music reflects this as it crescendos and brings in guitar and drums. Arguably, the tracks released as singles aren’t the strongest on the album; for example, The Man Who Loved Beer, which was released first, gets things off to a shaky start as the music noticeably detracts from the spoken word. On the other hand, it’s possible that the upbeat rock music reflects the mood of the poem itself, so it could be there for good reason.

Other recommended tracks are mostly deeper cuts from the album such as The Vision (Jesus of Possil), How To Spot A Tory and There’s a Workie in My House, which touch upon themes of the divisive nature of social class. They’re both humorous but self-aware. The Vision talks about what would happen if the reincarnation of Jesus Christ visits Possilpark, Glasgow, whilst There’s A Workie in My House describes the time a repairman came to fix Kevin’s boiler, prompting him to reflect on his own career.

As a poet and a music enthusiast, it’s difficult not to admire that a fellow Glasgow poet is bringing two worlds together. If you’re a music fan who is looking for that gateway drug into spoken word, Experience Essential would be as good a place to start as any. Gilday’s poetry is genuine, relatable, not too reliant on references to classical texts or other poets you may not have heard of and – for the most part – unpretentious. As an added bonus, the music itself is pretty decent. There’s bound to be at least one track on the album you can relate to, so for that reason, it’s highly recommended to check it out and discover which track you relate to most.

TRANSISTOR’S 10 Best Albums of 2018 (Mid-Year Update)

intro and thumbnail fae liam menzies (@blinkclyro)

While we could start this off with some drivel about how 2018 has been fraught with political debate, general discourse and a shaky quality in memes, we know what you’re here for: a ranking of subjective apart, decided by people you don’t know and/or care about. We might not be in the same league as Pitchfork and the likes but we feel our contribution to the discussion is… somewhat worthy, plus, we’ve got some solid patter so why not get into the list season spirit early?

10 Father John Misty – God’s Favourite Customer

Josh Tillman is a man on a hot streak. Since leaving the Fleet Foxes in 2012, he has reinvented himself as folk rockstar Father John Misty – releasing 3 critically acclaimed records, 2012’s psychedelic Fear Fun, 2015’s wildly romantic I Love You, Honeybear and 2017’s world-weary Pure Comedy – which topped many end of year lists. However – Pure Comedy also proved somewhat divisive – with many criticising its 75-minute run time, filled mostly by less-than-energetic instrumentation.

Tillman’s response? He’s returned just over a year later with God’s Favorite Customer – his shortest record yet at just 39 minutes. GFC feels like more of a sequel to Honeybear than Pure Comedy, detailing a rough patch in Tillman and his wife Emma’s relationship when he was living in a hotel –hilariously depicted on lead single Mr. Tillman, with the lyrics coming from the perspective of a hotel receptionist concerned for Tillman’s welfare.

However, things get considerably darker on other tracks, like Please Don’t Die, where he details “pointless benders with reptilian strangers” and the chorus comes from the perspective of Tillman’s wife, begging him not to take his own life. Remarkably, on the darkest moments of this incredibly personal record, Tillman keeps up his absurd sense of humour which has been a staple of his FJM records. On the solemn The Palace, Tillman undercuts his confessional to declare “last night I wrote a poem/man I must have been in the poem zone” and perhaps even references the internet’s favourite Jeff meme. In a sentence – God’s Favorite Customer is hilarious, heartbreaking and incredibly catchy – all at the same time. It’s just what we expect of Father John Misty now. – Andrew Barr (@weeandreww)

HEAR THE ALBUM

9Jeff Rosenstock – POST

POST- is an album rife with conflict, vacillating between furtive political references and forthright internal turmoil. Yr Throat questions the efficacy of self-expression as the narrator’s body and mind lock into a stalemate: “What’s the point of having a voice when it gets stuck inside your throat?!” All This Useless Energy stages a contentious dialogue between under-informed neurotypicals and frustrated depressives: “You’re not fooling anyone when you say you tried your best.”  I’m worried of abandoning the joys that framed my life, but all this useless energy won’t hold me through the night.

Whatever the meaning you choose to ascribe to the term “post” (Post-Obama, Post-Trauma, or for the overdramatic, Post-America) POST- refers to the end of an era. Every generation grapples with its social and political conventions, and now the Millennials have been called to action. A daunting task, to be sure, for a throng of young people consistently written off as thin-skinned, lazy, and disinterested. But with Jeff Rosenstock at the forefront of punk’s socially-inclined philosophes, we’re sure not to be tired and bored with the fight. May we never be again. – Sean Hannah (@shun_handsome)

8Ty Segall – Freedom’s Goblin

Last January, Ty Segall quietly delivered one of the finest records of 2017. That is, of course, quiet as in it was met with little fanfare. The music, on the other hand, was a short, sharp shot of frenetic energy that blew the new year’s blues away with consummate ease. And now, almost a year to the day, a new project, entitled Freedom’s Goblin, has been unleashed upon the world to do the same. A double album of 19 tracks, the record sees Segall at his most dynamic, hopping nimbly from futuristic disco to some of the fuzziest rock seen since Dwayne Johnson grew out his beard last year. In lesser hands, this sort of smashing together of styles could have resulted in a disjointed mess of a record, but instead, the constant variation creates an exhilaratingly sprawling joyride of ups and downs that at the very least, will leave you with a gigantic ear-to-ear smile.

According to the man himself, the concept of the album was to effectively eschew one altogether, and it undoubtedly has been a resounding success. Not all of the tracks work, Shoot You Up, for example, sounds a little too similar to last years Break a Guitar to really satisfy, but the general level of consistency across such a mammoth and diverse tracklist is nothing short of astounding. Segall tips his toes into disco, metal, and a whole host of other styles and comes out of the other side a bona-fide genre-hopping hero.

This may well be the musician’s finest release yet, at the very least standing toe to toe with some of his previous classics. It’s a treasure trove that demands multiple listens to uncover its hidden gems, of which there are a great many, but it’s difficult to imagine anyone begrudging a few extra listens to really get to grips with it when the music is this good. – Rory McArthur (@rorymeep)

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7 A.A.L – 2012-2017

Returning with a surprise album under his Against All Logic (A.A.L) moniker, leading electronic producer Nicholas Jaar ditches most of the experimentation for what could be pretty much summed up as a deep house album. Now, as this Jaar, this isn’t your chart-ready, sanitised house. Here, Jaar again samples with aplomb, but unlike other releases where the samples are manipulated into something totally new, here Jaar lets these groove-laden samples sit by themselves, letting the samples play out, with expert flourishes of percussion and electronic trickery to flesh out the instrumentation.

It might be contentious to some to include what is essentially a compilation album of previous songs onto this list, but it is for good reason. Here, Nicholas Jaar has arguably made a house album that will transcend normal genre barriers; this is an album that will go down in the history books as one of the best house albums ever made. Funk and soul samples are paired with some of the smoothest percussion heard this year, to make an album that is oozing style, charisma, and panache. – Charlie Leach (@yungbuchan)

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6UMO – Sex & Food

On their newest release, Unknown Mortal Orchestra hone in on the best aspects from each of their previous projects and produce some of their best work yet. The album swings from 80s pop to the psychedelic rock of the 60s and 70s so effortlessly and constantly applies a modern spin to each song, whether it be from the lyrics or production. On ‘Sex and Food’ an excellent mix between a vintage sound and modern ideas if found, as UMO refine their sound and deliver a cleaner than usual selection tracks that may be some of their best yet.

The brilliant songwriting and interesting production of Unknown Mortal Orchestra are sounding as good as ever with this latest project. Sex and Food sees new inspirations emerge and blend with the signature sound of UMO to continue the great track record that the band have formed since 2011. The album also finds more of a cohesive and clean sound than some of the distortion-heavy releases prior to this, which works well with the grooving baselines and beautiful melodies that can be heard throughout the project. Overall, it seems that Unknown Mortal Orchestra have matched, if not exceeded, the quality of Multi-Love, and continue to add to their already intricate and unique sound with a great album that continues to impress. – Ewan Blacklaw (@ewanblacklaw)

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5Confidence Man – Confident Music For Confident People

When Australian dance-pop four piece Confidence Man burst onto the scene amidst a flurry of Triple J hype and YouTube comment section detractors with a stunning live rendition of their first single, “Boyfriend”, few expected them to capitalise on that potential and become 2018’s most surprising success story.  It goes without saying that a key component to this sudden rush in popularity is down to their near-flawless debut LP, which is in itself the most fun you’ll have with an album all year.  It kicks off the party with “Try Your Luck”‘s earworm of a melody and doesn’t let go until the final echoes of “Fascination” fade out into the night as you stumble out, breathless and hungry for more.

In the rest of its forty minute runtime, Confidence Man cover a lot of ground for a band who could have been a one trick pony, taking the best bits of house, techno and disco and repackaging them in a contemporary format that recalls the best of Daft Punk, LCD Soundsystem, and Fatboy Slim.  Along the way, they will make you dance, laugh, sing, dance some more, and be oh so grateful that they exist in such dour times like this. – Josh Adams (@jxshadams)

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4Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino

After 2013’s still-quite-good-but-underwhelming AM, you’d be forgiven for writing ArcticMonkeys off for good, god knows I did. But now the naysayers as a collective have egg on their ruddy faces! The Sheffield 4 piece are back in town, and they are back with a vengeance. Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino is the self-inflicted kick up the arse the band had simply to give themselves after the AM album cycle left them positively stagnant.

Gone are the grease and leather jackets from AM, replaced with a Hugh Hefner-esque robe, a stiff whiskey and a wee pipe. TBH+C is lounge music for the modern era. A trip through an astral Las Vegas through the eyes of an aging patron. It’s straight out of left field and it’s all the better for it.

Each song weaves into the last effortlessly. This isn’t an album you can put on shuffle, it’s as deliberate as it is sexy. There’s no banger single on here (bar maybe the album’s centerpiece Four Out of Five), but what you, dear listener, gets instead is an album from a band finally totally free from the shackles of indie rock, and finally comfortable in their own skin. Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino sounds, to me, like the album Alex Turner and the boys have wanted to make for a long, long time. It is truly out of this world. – Jake Cordiner (@j4keth)

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3 Parquet Courts – Wide Awake

Who would’ve thought that four white guys playing in a punk outfit in 2018 could sing about how “woke” they are and make it sound convincing? Parquet Courts have long played the role of rock and roll philosophers; co-songwriters Austin Brown and Andrew Savage often dive into popular rock fodder like relationships, travel, and technology, detailing each phenomenon with an enlightened, if blunt, sentiment. And on Wide Awake!, the group return with their trademark urban nervousness, this time with a wider musical palette, courtesy of guest producer Danger Mouse.

Removed from the context of the music, Brown, and Savage begin to sound like paranoiacs, their lyrics veering close to the basket cases spouting off outside of grocery stores and banks. “Lately I’ve been curious/ Do I pass the Turing test?” Savage sings on Normalization, his voice not so much panicked as it is angry, demanding. But for all the furor, the Brooklyn quartet remain woke, even if it’s the kind of social awareness that keeps you up at night: “Mind so woke cause my brain never pushes the brakes!” As always, Parquet Courts make anxiety catchy—to them, the human condition is a mix of mundanity and revulsion, terror and desensitisation, and on Wide Awake!, it’s never without a strong hook.

Oh, and fuck Tom Brady. – Sean Hannah (@shun_handsome)

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2Young Fathers – Cocoa Sugar

One of the most exciting acts Scotland has seen in years, Young Fathers returned this year with the much anticipated Cocoa Sugar, an album which continues to showcase their ability to create an explosive collection of innovative and experimental tracks. On Cocoa Sugar, Young Fathers are catchier and poppier than before but sacrifice none of their talent for packing so much intricate detail into short but powerful blasts of music.

The Edinburgh hip-hop trio are as versatile as ever here as well, going from almost spiritual places on tracks such as In My View and Lord to the grit and sinister tones of Wow, Wire, and Toy. Cocoa Sugar gets more impressive with each listen and it’s most impressive aspect is just how layered each track is with its intertwining vocals, driving beats, backing choir and many minor details that you appreciate more and more with each listen. – Ethan Woodford (@human_dis4ster)

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1Car Seat Headrest – Twin Fantasy

What to say about Twin Fantasy that hasn’t already been said? Will Toledo’s lo-fi opus is a source of inspiration to all indie fans of this generation. Toledo’s enormous presence mixed with honest but cryptic storytelling led his diehard fans to pick and dissect every bit of truth behind the album. Usually, this kind of reaction would generate a pretty negative feeling towards the album from the musician’s standpoint, but the art Toledo created in 2011 stood the test of time.

Prompting him to redo the album completely; submerging himself in lyrics and feelings from years prior. This led him to create what is arguably his most grand record to date, labeled as (Face to Face). The structure from the original album is there but everything has been redone in the best possible way. There is enough for fans of the original to feel it has been done justice, but it also stands on its own enough to attract new fans. It’s the perfect love letter to what Car Seat Headrest used to be, written from where the band is now. – Ryan Martin (@ryanmartin182)

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Album Review: S/T by LUMP

words fae michaela barton (@MichaelaBarton_)                                                         rating 7

A successful experimental collaboration between two very distinct musicians is about as rare as spotting a dancing yeti. However, seeing that such a yeti is present in LUMP’s music videos and album art, it appears this fabled occurrence has finally come true.

A musical collaboration between Laura Marling and Tunng’s Mike Lindsay sounds pretty much exactly how you’d expect it. Marling takes the lead with vocals, bringing her signature poetic lyrics with her, whereas the instrumentals are mostly written by Lindsay and continue his usual relaxed, electronic compositions.

With first listening, opening track Late to the Flight sounds like Marling’s recent work, with calm guitar and laidback vocals, with only a distant hint of electronic hum. However, there’s still a definite new musical layer added by Lindsay – subtle enough to not be over-powering and ward off traditional Marling fans but enough to assure that this is an experimental collaboration and won’t be just more of the same old. Of course, Marling fans should be well used to a little experimentation as the singer has never shied away from it in her previous work. Regardless, this will be the first album to focus more heavily on modern instrumentals, with Lindsay proving the importance of composing instrumentals with as much care as crafting lyrics.

Marling’s vocal range is allowed full freedom in this album, though her often preferred tenor growl is present in many verses, choruses allow a rare vocal jaunt into the mezzo-soprano. May I be the Light is one such song that plays with hauntingly drawn out croons adding a bright lilt to the song. Lindsay keeps the synth instrumentals reserved to allow Marling’s vocals centre stage. The synths create a night-time feel, with an undercurrent of 80’s Bladerunner score. A growing urgency is added in the choruses with a galloping drum beat and the simple, monotone synth pattern raises in pitch along with Marling’s vocals in the chorus, mirroring her sudden elation.

The first notes of Rolling Thunder are mystical and weirdly wonderful, with hints of Kate Bush. The whole song sounds at odds with itself but in a very purposeful way. It’s intended oddity with the storm of abstractness being part of the charm. The lyrics are filled with odd, evocative imagery. Every line starts with “I’m a” or “We are” or “You” and there are multiple identities explored throughout the song, highlighting how everyone is more complex than just one title. Just like in her previous album Semper Femina, Marling plays with gender, subverting the usual binary constraints in lyrical perspective with repeated lines like “I’m your mother, I’m your father”, refusing to adhere to restricted gender roles in art. The chorus line “I’m a man, of a certain kind. I’m a woman, of a certain space and time” could be critiquing gender identity roles – men being allowed to choose their identity whereas women have their labels thrust upon them depending on when they exist and what they choose to do or wear. Rolling Thunder is the first track on the album to really show off Lindsay’s electronic musical layering skills and introduces listeners to the more playful, LSD-trip sounding songs.

Curse of the Contemporary was the first song released on the album and performs everything this debut intended. Marling’s vocal talent is at full force in this track, exploring the usually ignored higher notes and layering vocals to allow full submersion for the listener. Lindsay’s talents in instrumentals and tempo are also on point. The melody explores uncommon chord patterns in western music, with the verse almost following traditional Japanese melodies. There’s a musical energy brought by the arrangement and layering of instruments, without simply having to rely on loud percussions. The lyrics explore a well-known subject area for Marling, that of living in California from an outsider perspective. The song warns the listener of the escapist, often vain lifestyle in California.

Marling’s lyrics always seem to circle back to a feeling of dissatisfaction. In the running synth bass, 80’s arcade game sounding track Hand Hold Hero, lyrics discuss feeling trapped. “Oh my back to the wall, better that than trip and fall” seems to discuss the musical tendency to stick to what you know and not experiment, in case you fail to please your audience, something which Marling probably feared when writing for this collaboration. Shake your Shelter is again about feeling trapped, using the imagery of a naked crab desperately trying to find a home but feeling bored when stuck in one shell for too long. The lyrics are repeated throughout over a simple instrumental, with a layering effect on Marling’s vocals, which could signify the repetitive, monotonous cycle of life.

The final track – LUMP is a Product – is just an audio credits over music, which is helpful as a reviewer as we now know who to give credit to. However, as just a casual listener, it is a little strange and will likely be skipped on repeated listens, which reduces the total number of actual songs on this album to only six.

The only real critique for this album is that it left you wanting more. More songs and more abstract experimentation of traditional musical form. Lindsay seemed relatively timid throughout the album, only really getting to fully stretch his composing wings is songs like Curse of the Contemporary and Rolling Thunder. Despite this, the pairing or Marling and Lindsay seemed to work surprisingly well, hopefully, they’ll try collaborating again in the future and this time feel confident enough to fully immerse themselves into their new direction.

blanket carry you into the night sky with debut album How To Let Go

Words by Oliver Butler (@notoliverbutler)

It’s often said that a picture is worth a thousand words; a still image can do more to convey the beauty, emotion, seriousness or heartbreak of a situation better than any piece of writing ever could. But can the same logic be applied to music? Yes, you can relate certain songs to certain periods in your life, but that usually comes with vocals to describe the situation. However, with their debut album How To Let Go, Blackpool cinematic rock outfit blanket have aimed to provide your own blank journal to write your own story.

From the get go, it’s pretty interesting how this album doesn’t use any proper vocals, but manages to say so much through the use of instruments. Title track How To Let Go begins with some delicate, emotional piano with some gentle guitar in the background before bursting into a full band experience. There’s a real prog feel to this album in the way that songs are dragged out to take their time, rather than just being a short verse-chorus-verse affair, giving them time to mature in your head and write your own story.

It’s hard to take the temperature of this album: on the one hand, it feels largely melancholic, the sort of album that would adequately soundtrack a heartbreak, be that a breakup, the loss of a loved one, or dropping your pizza toppings first onto the pavement after a night on the razz. But on the other hand, that’s balanced by a lot of the arrangements and melodies inspiring hope. For instance, the start of Our Tired Hearts feels downbeat, as if rain is gently dripping on you as you walk the streets, but towards the end of the song, the key changes, tempo and general growth in the musical arrangement makes you feel inspired as the rain slowly stops and sunshine burns through the clouds to reveal a beautiful blue sky.

blanket as a band began in Blackpool in 2016, as then roommates and soon to be bandmates Bobby Pook and Simon Morgan would often noodle on guitars and tinkle ivories, writing intertwining melodies, all whilst gazing wistfully skywards at the stars above them, according to their bio on Spotify. Now, as you know, we’re not a PR site that just regurgitates copy into articles, but fucking hell, that paragraph was too beautiful not to include. But the beauty of that paragraph is justified, as blanket’s music does invoke images of the night sky, as the constellations dance to these intertwining melodies, shaping images of your deepest desires.

Three songs into the album, vocals make a cameo appearance in Worlds Collide, which has the same sort of principle where it builds from a minor to a major vibe but on the whole, there’s no real… meaningful vocals, if that’s the right word. How To Let Go says all it needs to without a single word being uttered. It paints a picture in your mind with its cinematic feel. But this is your soundtrack, in this album, you are the star.

The use of instrumentals to paint a picture is very reminiscent of Sigur Ros, namely their untitled album (), with songs like Untitled #1 (Vaka) and Untitled #3 (Samskeyti) saying much whilst saying so little. In this, you don’t really listen to the words, they’re just part of the arrangement, a string section comprised of vocal chords. It’s not as if the vocals have been mixed to be front and centre, as you would on any other album, they slot in with the rest of the song, providing assistance where needed, rather than narrating the song.

To get to the highlight of the album though, you’ll have to hold on until the credits begin to roll. Immemorial Sea is an eight minute epic that has a real slow dance feel to it. Beginning with a subtle heartbeat, the gently plucked guitar drapes itself over the song, this does feel like the soundtrack to a slow dance with your partner. Everything worked out as you delicately step around a deserted dance floor. However, that’s only one perception of this song – you will hear, and see, this song in a completely different way. That’s why it’s so beautiful; your mind’s eye is the canvas, this album is your paint, and the gently played chords allow you to create whatever you see fit.

The tremelo picked riff halfway through the song allows it to quicken in its step, right through to what can only be describe as the sound of someone diving into the water, which moves the song into an emotional string section, and with the combination of the diving sound, the strings and the choral

It could be argued that How To Let Go is a game changer; the marriage of contemporary rock sounds to cinematic soundtrack arrangements, though not massively off the beaten path, feels like it could become part of a wider mainstream genre. In an age where everyone is saying so much, all the time it feels nice to be able to take an hour and not hear a single word uttered, well, not many words uttered. As it says on the tin, blanket wrap you up in their ethereal, tranquil soundtrack and swaddle you as they carry you into the night’s sky.

Parquet Courts get “woke” on their latest LP ‘Wide Awake’

words fae Ewan Blacklaw (@EwanBlacklaw)rating 9

Wide Awake is the sixth full-length studio album from the unique voices of modern punk, Parquet Courts. This newest release shows that the band have by no means run out of ideas, and continue to improve on their already impressive track record. Ever since bursting on to the alt-rock scene in 2012 with Light Up Gold, the native Texan band have been releasing a pretty consistent stream of great records, apart from a couple of stranger moments such as 2015’s Monastic Living or their more recent collaboration with Daniele Luppi. Apart from these blips in the band’s discography, Parquet Courts have produced some of the standout indie rock albums of the past few years, hitting out with a sound that no other band is currently bringing to the scene. The combination of the guitar-based stoner garage rock and the abstract song writing from the minds of Andrew Savage and Austin Brown has seen the band gain critical acclaim over the years, with much anticipation for each of their past few releases.

Since moving to Brooklyn and being signed to Rough Trade, the sound of Parquet Courts seems to have evolved from their Texan origins. On their last record, Human Performance, there seemed to be more slow moments contemplating different subject matter, showing personal growth from within the group as well as a habit of switching up musical stylings between albums. This growth has continued, and with Wide Awake they have yet again switched up their style.

While the new sound is definitely not a massive change for fans of their older material, it brings a fresh new approach to the unique sound they’ve built on so far. The new album is often driven mainly by the drums and bass, rather than by the catchy guitar hooks like on some of their earlier work. This is not to say that the album isn’t guitar heavy, as some of the most punk-influenced tracks from Parquet Courts can be found on this record. Tracks such as Almost Had to Start a Fight/In and Out of Patience, Normalization and NYC Observation take clear influence from 80s punk, particularly the New York scene, which makes sense considering the new setting for the band.

Wide Awake is also the most focused and concise project from Parquet Courts to date, with fewer rambling tracks that sometimes feel as if they overstay their welcome on some of the bands older albums. The subject matter and lyrics also feel like this, with less personal, small-minded issues being discussed; instead, it features more punk-influenced social commentary. The commentary doesn’t come across as whining and complaining or preaching to the listener, but rather feels like a discussion that doesn’t treat you like an idiot. The opening two tracks speak on American issues, setting the pace for the rest of the album. Topics such as national identity and gun control are touched upon in a very Parquet Courts way, infusing witty anecdotes and pop culture references to form great tracks.

In the past, some of the songwriting felt reminiscent of bands such as Pavement, but could occasionally come off as random. On this record, though, it feels that Savage and Brown have reached a new high point with their lyrics, and have found their true identity as musicians. In particular, Andrew Savage seems to take the lead on the record with his signature style but has started to decode some of his cryptic lyrical habits in order to speak out on issues, which gives the album more of a sense of purpose.

To contrast with the punk side of the album, there is also a distinct feature of funk and soul that feature more prominently than any other Parquet Courts album. Numbers like Tenderness and title track Wide Awake bring a completely new dimension to their music, which feels like yet another advancement for the band. This new side hasn’t been seen on any of the previous albums, at least not to this extent, and it really does work incredibly well. The new ‘punk and fun’ approach has allowed Parquet Courts to create their most in-depth album yet.

The commentary offered on the current state of the USA feels like a breath of fresh air to the music world, just when it seemed that it kept getting worse. The punk spirit of the album is as prominent as Andrew Savage’s brilliant songwriting and the infatuating instrumentals from the rest of the band that are about as catchy as any other album in 2018 so far. The album really doesn’t have a dull moment, which has been an issue on some of the earlier releases from the band, showing that the band just keeps on improving. Parquet Courts continue their growth and continue to impress with the latest and greatest addition to their discography.

Courtney Barnett isn’t afraid to speak her mind on Tell Me How You Really Feel

By Michaela Barton (@MichaelaBarton_)

“I got a lot on my mind but I dunno how to say it” is a surprising sentiment from someone whose work is best known for smart lyrics, that always articulate relatable feelings so well.

Courtney Barnett’s recent release, Tell Me How You Really Feel continues her trend of brilliantly raw lyrics. No topic is too personal or taboo for Barnett not to include – such as mental health & toxic masculinity – she’s outspoken and this is her true talent.

Much like her lyrics, the instrumentals are often loud and unapologetic with flavours of grunge, garage rock and riot gurl. Barnett’s vocal stylings have retained her reserved and often sarcastic drone without tiring this sound out. However, this album is certainly not just a carbon copy of previous work. Barnett is growing as an artist and this album demonstrates this.

Dialling down the amps a little, Tell Me How You Really Feel had an even more intimate nature about it than previous work. The utter charm of Barnett is how relatable her music is – Tell Me How You Really Feel homed in on this feature more and has evolved her songs to feel like a private discussion, like she’s a confidante you can trust. Hopefulessness seems to directly address the listener, reassuring that “it’s okay to have a bad day” and you should “just get this one done then you can move along”. It’s gentler but doesn’t breach the territory of sappy. The song ends repeating “I’m getting louder now” as the music swells and starts to return to the usual volume of Barnett’s music. The song introduces the listener to a more confident album from Barnett – she has taken her broken heart and turned it into art and now she’s warmed up and ready to share it.

Barnett has always shined brightest when being brutally honest about her mental health. In City Looks Pretty, the chorus could be disregarded as simplistic with lyrics like “Sometimes I get sad, it’s not all that bad”, but in quintessential Barnett style, she delves deeper than the surface level lyrics and adds “One day, maybe never, I’ll come around”. Sung in an off-hand way, this deceptively simple lyric carries weight as Barnett fully accepts that she may never feel “normal” and this is no longer a paralysing realisation, it’s just a sad fact of life. City Looks Pretty also demonstrates her ever evolving musical maturity; changing up the tempo and experimenting with melody rather than continuing her usual steady grunge guitar instrumentals.

Quite a few songs on Tell Me How You Really Feel diverge from the expected Barnett sound and presents listeners with more interesting musical variations. Charity adds an unpredictable tempo whereas Need a Little Time is more laidback from her usual songs and adds background synth to the instrumental line-up. The album closes with Sunday Roast, which again like Hopefulessness demonstrates Barnett’s raw intimacy in this album in both lyrics and instrumentals. But no need for die-hard fans of Barnett’s original musical style to worry, this album still oozes that classic Barnett tone, especially in songs like Help Yourself and I’m Not Your Mother, I’m Not Your Bitch.

Nameless/ Faceless is a stand out single and is the epitome of Barnett. Directed towards sexism, the single is the audio equivalent of the middle finger. The verses are thickly layered with sarcasm perfectly performed with Barnett’s dry lilt, so much so it’s probable Barnett pulled a muscle rolling her eyes too hard during recording. Verses are reserved for calling out everyday sexism from men who probably spend their time tweeting insults from the bridge they live under. Initially, lyrics can be mistaken for genuine sympathy – “I wish that someone could hug you, must be lonely being angry, feeling over-looked” – but the punch of condescension reassures that Barnett has no time for that shit.

“He said ‘I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and spit out better words than you’ but you didn’t” is clearly directed at any online trolls that try to degrade Barnett’s songwriting talent, all the while critiquing without showing any ability to perform themselves. The chorus really hits home, however. Borrowing Margaret Atwood sentiments: “Men are scared that women will laugh at them. I wanna walk through the park in the dark, women are scared that men will kill them”. Barnett addresses the stark reality between genders in everyday society, the fact that it’s not even safe for women to walk alone at night – “I hold my keys between my fingers”.

Tell Me How You Really Feel is a solid album. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. Though some lyrics may seem simple, they still have a charm to them which allows this fault to go unchallenged. Song topics are addressed in an intelligent manner, without isolating the audience and though some instrumentals were softened in this album, there’s still plenty to tap along to. As with Barnett’s previous work, the lyrics were more impressive than the instrumentals, however, this album has hinted at a musical progression and it’s likely future work will continue to improve and experiment with the genre.

Beach House reach the crest of their career on 7

words fae andrew barr (@weeandreww)rating 8

In 2018, Beach House are firmly established as indie royalty. Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally’s dream-pop project already have 6 LPs under their belt, and even a glance at the reviews they have received over the course of their career would strongly suggest it foolish to call them anything but critical darlings. However, they are more than a critics’ band, as evidenced by their comfortable position near the top of the festival posters they appear on, such as Barcelona’s Primavera Sound festival.

However, at this point, comfortable is a word that could be used to describe the duo in more ways than one. 2015’s surprise double release of Depression Cherry and Thank Your Lucky Stars rarely faltered in terms of quality, but Beach House perhaps became too comfortable in their trademark dreamy, hazy sound which they have been exploring since their debut. The sound was consistent, but it led to some fans and critics feeling like they wanted to hear the duo explore some new soundscapes.

So in 2018, Beach House have returned with their 7th record, simply entitled 7 in what feels like an effort to strip away any bullshit before the listener even hits play on the record. Or in the band’s words – in the Father John Misty-esque “essay’ they published with the record – “we hoped its simplicity would encourage people to look inside.” It would be unfair to call this a make-or-break album for Beach House, as they are already more than successful, but it feels like an important album for the Baltimore duo – which they acknowledged in their essay when they said, “Throughout the process of recording 7, our goal was rebirth and rejuvenation.”

I’m delighted to say this quote couldn’t be further from how Simon Neil talks up the latest Biffy release (yes, I’m still incredibly bitter he said Ellipsis would sound like Death Grips) because the “rejuvenation” of the duo’s sound is clear from the opening seconds of the record.

Opener Dark Spring jolts to life with an onslaught of thunderous drums which gives way to a frenetic synth that echoes LCD Soundsystem and Arcade Fire, two bands to whom Beach House have probably never been compared over their 14-year career. However, what is most enjoyable about 7 is that Beach House are experimenting, but they aren’t throwing out what fans and critics love about them. Victoria Legrand’s vocals are a calming balm atop the (relative) madness, and her lyrics are as cryptic and (literally) spacey as ever, as she sings about constellations for the track’s remarkably concise 3 minutes.

The “rejuvenation” of the duo is also evident on lead single Lemon Glow, which opens on some subtle, fast-paced drums and rolling synths, and which sounds like a classic Beach House instrumental played at 1.5x the speed. This is also one of the only tracks on the record with an easily discernible chorus – a simple two-line hook where Legrand visualises the glow from a dimmed light.

7 then makes its way to easily its strongest three-track run, and perhaps the best three-track run of the duo’s entire discography. L’inconnue (which translates to “The Unknown”) is a fascinating song where Beach House’s trademark beauty is replaced by a nightmarish eeriness, opening with multi-layered hypnotic Legrand vocals, and these only give way to a single vocal track after a psychedelic chord progression, where she opts to sing in French, including counting from one to seven which sounds almost cultish and completes this track’s uneasiness.

Following L’inconnue, an undisputed highlight, is no easy task, but Drunk in L.A. does so effortlessly. True to its title, the track feels unhinged, built on a quick drum beat and synth flourishes which feel almost random, however this track’s beauty comes from Legrand’s poetic lyrics about ageing with the climax, “I am loving losing life”. The second verse finds the track subtly adding layers and complexity, echoing the album’s patchwork art, with so many layers and instruments merging into one to form a beautiful collage. In the least Beach House fashion, the track’s climax comes with a guitar solo, which doesn’t feel one bit out of place.

This stunning three-track run is completed by second single Dive, which is a traditional, beautiful slow-paced Beach House song with world-building lyrics. However, this is only until the 2:20 mark, where the beautiful layered vocals give way to a guitar riff which quadruples the track’s BPM and provides a sense of urgency which has rarely been heard in the Beach House discography this far. It suits them, especially if you consider the dreamy flourishes which sit atop the racing guitar.

The second half of the record is more typical of the Beach House we know thus far, but there are still clear signs of the duo’s “rejuvenation.” Lose Your Smile is carried by a warm acoustic guitar, which feels like such a natural fit in the band’s sonic universe, you wonder why the duo haven’t used it more throughout their career. By the time this track reaches its beautiful climax, the music is so heavenly you believe every word of Legrand’s promise that “dreams, baby, do come true.”

A theme which subtly introduces itself in the second half of this record is a celebration of femininity. On Woo, where a drum machine comes and goes subtly, allowing the pace to shift naturally, Legrand sings of “when she closes her eyes” and later adds “you will braid your hair” in-between fabulously multi-layered vocals in the track’s climax. This theme is more explicit on Girl of the Year, a track likely dedicated to Edie Sedgwick, who was one of Andy Warhol’s Factory Girls, called “girl of the year” in 1965. She died young of a drug overdose, but Legrand here celebrates her while bemoaning the tragedy, with lyrics like, “Get dressed to undress / Depressed to impress” before mourning “Baby’s gone / All night long.”

The album’s final track, Last Ride, subtly continues this theme, with Legrand repeating “there she goes” as she seems to narrate a romantic encounter between two characters over one of the album’s most beautiful instrumentals – opening with a grand piano which is overdubbed with distortion and is soon joined by guitars, drums and electronic keys, all joining and furthering the track seamlessly, forming another collage in the image of the album’s art.

7 is undoubtedly an album Beach House had to make. It’s the duo’s grandest album yet, which the band touched on themselves in their essay: “In the past, we often limited our writing to parts that we could perform live. On 7, we decided to follow whatever came naturally.” It’s a change that suits them. The extra instrumentation brings a new dimension and urgency to the two-piece’s sound while also making their trademark dreamy moments even more dreamy and beautiful. Album number 7 may well be Beach House’s best yet.

 

Grouper gets lost in its own atmosphere on Grid of Points

words fae liam toner (@tonerliam)

rating 6Liz Harris is an American musician and songwriter who since 2005 has released 12 albums and three EPs through her solo project Grouper. The Grouper sound Harris has crafted over the years has varied from album to album, but on each release, you’ll always find some key elements: reverb washed production, feathery vocal delivery and an overall tone of dreamy melancholy.

Harris’ music often features field recordings and everyday sounds along with tape hiss that gives her music a much more personal quality that a lot of fans have come to love. Her most ambitious project to date is probably her 2007 album A I A: Alien Observer, an ambient drone influenced album with Harris’ signature vocal style on top that creates an otherworldly spacey atmosphere where the listener can easily lose themselves in its dreamy haze.

Grid of Points is Harris’ newest output and clocking in at around 22 minutes the short album has a much more stripped-down approach than some of her other work. Similar to her most recent album Ruins, each song is mostly just Harris’ soft vocals and a piano. The production is atmospheric as usual, with all sounds engulfed in reverb which creates overtones that soar over the mix and add to the ethereal quality of the tracks. Harris will utilise her signature vocal harmony style and you’ll also hear the tape hiss throughout, meaning it has all the key ingredients of a Grouper album.

The first track is a short acapella number which sucks the listener in to the downtrodden mood of Grid of Points and sets the moody tone for the rest of the album. Each track onward just features Liz and her piano. The tracks are slow and sparse, devoid of any flashy musicianship made with the intention of creating atmosphere.

With this comes my issue with the album, however. The stripped-down sound Harris is going for on this release exposes the songs to be very minimal and vague without a strong sense of progression. With all the elements of each track being so understated and washed out it can give the music a lack of substance. The music often falls into the background, leaving the listener to forget about the subtleties of Harris‘ songcraft. Now this would be fine on an ambient record, but on a stripped back solo piano album the understated qualities leave something to be desired. It could be argued that the lack of standout musical features on this release is what makes it good, but it couldn’t have hurt to have chord progressions or themes that are a bit more developed and interesting. All of the songs were said to be written over the course of a week and half, and at times it shows.

Although the music on here can suffer from being a bit sonically reserved, it is far from unenjoyable. Harris’ silky voice is a warm presence that, accompanied with her sparse piano playing, makes for a very pleasant listen. Blouse is a particularly beautiful song that did grab my attention on each listen and probably stands out as the best song on the album. The humming engine sounds at the end of the brief album also add a rather relaxing quality. If anything, this album absolutely delivered on how peaceful it was intended to be.

Grid of Points is an album that, while very pleasant and nice to listen to, doesn’t leave a huge impact and won’t likely be remembered as one of Grouper’s more memorable or ambitious releases. However, will probably be just great for the loyal Grouper fans.