‘Wilfully eccentric as ever, CocoRosie’s latest – the follow-up to the commensurately outré Gravediggress, and the second bit to be lifted from forthcoming fifth, Tales of a Grass Widow – begins an elegiac festal hymnal and the sort that, while we’re still just about in the spirit of all things spiritual, could have even a heathen returning to take its place in the ligneous pews of the neighbourhood parish. Though after twenty-five seconds or so of that, Bianca and Sierra’s attentions flit to a funked up and flatulent synth line which entwines its wicked modulations with sporadic bursts of jazzy piano, elementary drum machine patterns and Bianca’s heavily Auto-Tuned vocals detailing the usual array of attic-enshrined miscellany. “Moth wings crumbled by a daylit fire”, a ravenous Venus flytrap and the like. Though as the ashen ivories twinkle snowy in the backdrop, Sierra again starts to chirp a heartwarming reception to the hereafter. “Welcome to the afterlife” she mournfully soothes, her voice soft and comforting as Egyptian cotton and if eternity should be perfumed with sounds this Heavenly scented, then you’ll be thanking those most auspicious of stars that it’s to endure forever and ever, Amen.’
Tales of a Grass Widow is anticipated May 27th on City Slang.
Posts tagged Sub Pop.
‘Although languishing in misery, The Invisible Way sees Low set about charting untried highs with unerring equanimity.’
Dots & Dashes review the return of the Minnesota sadcore stalwarts.
‘With the firmamental imagery and the block white font, there’s little to visually differentiate newfangled Copenhagen outfit Winter Palace from much of your average blog fodder. Sure, the whipped cream-like clouds make for a background that’s equal parts comforting and inviting, though it’s nothing we’ve not seen before, even on a day-to-day. Though what standout track Hemingway just so happens to elucidate is a clear knack for an hitherto unprecedented blend of dreamy, Sub Poppy stuff with that more rimy Scandinavian feel duly renowned of the Nordic realms. “Pull me down/ Don’t let go/ You smile like Hemingway” an insouciant voice reassuringly coos on this most gloriously unassuming chorus, and it’s like the diazepam doing its unwinding deeds to your average aerophobic. One to make the world below evaporate, if only for five transporting moments.’
‘Forthrightly incendiary Portland punks The Thermals have always had that raging flame alive and firing at their very core and even now, a decade on from their trailblazing Sub Pop début More Parts per Million, they’re sounding as visceral, combustible and downright killer as ever. Born To Kill is the first flicker of life from the trio’s forthcoming Desperate Ground LP and, although it’s over in the approximate time it takes for a match to wear itself out, by the time it comes to extinguish itself Hutch Harris et al. have once again doused themselves in radiant glory. “Each final breath I breathe/ Burns a bright fire inside of me/ And it keeps me alive, it keeps me alive” he seethes, his vocal aflame with brazen passion and from this “‘til the day in the dirt I lie/ ‘Til my ashes scatter in the sea” my adulation of this band shows no sign of abating.’
Desperate Ground is expected April 15th via Saddle Creek.
