Posts tagged Each Other.

So we’ve now a more or less finalised line up for what is undoubtedly the most majestic of metropolitan festivals Europe has to offer. Le Guess Who? takes place in the inexplicably undiscovered, Utopian town of Utrecht, NL over four days at the end of November and for once the lifeblood of the city is not faintly murky canal water, but exquisite alternative tunage. Last year’s line up felt almost tailor-made to our tastes, and that of this time around is commensurately sublime. Hogging the upper echelons of the bill are the likes of a rejuvenated Warren Ellis and his Dirty Three, and Arbutus omnipresent Grimes, and a returning Fuck Buttons, and Geoff Barrow’s Beak>, and our beloved Sharon Van Etten. Although this one ain’t exactly all to do with the headliners – far from it. Clamber a little further down to find faves from the ever excellent Captured Tracks roster (DIIV, Mac DeMarco, The Soft Moon) as well as the Books’ Zammuto, 4AD’s Purity Ring, and imperious Japanese instrumentalists MONO. Getting jazzy with it are saxophonists Colin Stetson and Matana Roberts; getting dubby with it is On-U Sound originator Adrian Sherwood; getting deep down & dirty with it are White Fence, Acid Baby Jesus, Each Other, and soft-psych dreamboats Thulebasen.

The full line up thus far is as such:
 

Le Guess Who? 2012 takes place between November 29th - December 2nd in Utrecht. Trust me – it’s breathtakingly picturesque. Looks, feels and smells like Christmas come early. Passepartout tickets are now available for a snip at €75, and can be acquired here. The quite beautiful official site, meanwhile, is up here.

'Artsy crackle pop types Each Other emerged as standout slackers during yesterday’s virtual musical cruise through the windswept avenues of Montréal. Then we stopped off at new Captured Tracks fave Mac DeMarco, and Zooey, and Pyongyang although today it’s a breakneck whirl to the tune of Ash Mound: it’s rickety, and rumbly, and just downright wonderful. As though Generationals kissed by the nicotine-smeared smooch of the Black Lips, it’s a perfect equilibration of jangle and garage junk worth erecting an extension for, such is its derelict charm.’