‘Right from the very moment I first heard The Holy Bible, I’ve found myself irrevocably hooked on static-addled vocal samples suffused throughout grinding rock tracks and this from San Antonio, Texas three-piece The Mites is precisely that. The instant standout from an EP entitled Spur of the Summer, Soma Holiday is as irritably restive as it is irresistibly schizophrenic: it begins the epitome of how I’d envisage their targeted kissable, grade-A, lo-fi drip-pop for the sensuous soul to sound, before slogging itself into the ground with Hole-like squalls of rambunctious guitar and that same semi-permeable patter to have fallen off The Raincoats for decades already. A composition of two halves – a lulling first and a heady, altogether heftier second – it seems apt that it should’ve been conceived of a boyfriend and girlfriend, with a third (a friend-cum-spanner) jammed in the works for added abrasion. Enticing as anything Texan, Soma Holiday positively bristles with a cactaceous incision and will doubtless stick about ‘til we’re sweating out the summer.’
Posts tagged On the Horizon.
‘Breeze past the inexpressible band name, and London trio Qtier are a quite singular, strongly positioned proposition. Like a calmed Darkstar, or Delphic rewired to incorporate even a smidgen of subtlety Kind is as yet their coup – a cushioning gauze of intricately manipulated electronics and intimate vocals that’s delicate as gossamer, yet still pulsating as much of Pantha du Prince’s estimable kingdom of a back catalogue. It’s a keeper, and one which can be kept and indeed treasured once Bad Life get around to releasing the band’s as yet untitled second EP, presumably around the time they come to play The Old Blue Last March 21st.’
‘Grossly belated as this may be, there are certain gospels that need preaching at any possible opportunity. And though Floridian Yuno (previously unouomedude) may have released the distinctly estival Sunlight last August, it’s a scintillating ray that’s still well worth the spreading. Like a jejune Deerhunter intermingled with earlier AnCo recordings and the poppier sensibilities of a certain Chazwick Bundick, it’s a suitably warming sliver of shimmering Southeast Coast ebullience, even amid these gelid February climes. The ultimate all year round wonder then, get enlightened below…’
‘We continually search far and wide for something; anything to prick the ear and compel, kicking and screaming at the lobes. However from time to time, a certain something which transpires to be unspeakably fine resonates out from right behind you, as today is the case with London ambient architect Moon Zero. Aeolus, the latest from the evasive drone-preferring producer, couldn’t better befit this afternoon were it enwrapped in layer upon layer of dense wool for it genuinely sounds like a blizzard a-whirr with prickly stabs of whitish noise and sweeping barbs of squawking gust. It’s music to make you feel that little bit disquieted even in the comforting warmth of your own home; the sound of being shaken up inside the impermeable parameters of an almighty SnowDome ® (a SnowDrone ☠, even) for ten unabating minutes. Burr, etc.’
