Wounded Knee - Etive Shepherds/Single Malt Symphony (***)
Out Now
Withhold from Wounded Knee your full attention and you might as well listen to the hum of kitchen appliances, so focus. Both Etive Shepherds and Single Malt Symphony alternate between repetitive vocal loops and even more abstract drones, but although little seems to happen, all the small adjustments and refinements add up to something rather hypnotic. A microwave’s whir doesn’t softly surprise the way the arrival of a fresh texture does here; a fridge’s buzz will never become inexplicably moving the way this does after long periods in its company.
These slight rewards aren’t going to convince those who’ve already pegged Wounded Knee an impressive but patience-testing novelty, nor those desiring instant pleasures from their music (at least live there is immediate enjoyment to be had witnessing the layering process up close). But with a little effort and a lotta perseverance, you might just come around to Drew Wight’s experimental mindset.Out Now
Wye Oak - Civilian (****)
Civilian opens with a blanket of warm, fuzzy noise enveloping background chat, ushering the listener into Wye Oak’s world gently but resolutely. A lovely world it is too: Two Small Deaths echoes the woozy tone of Asleep In The Back if performed by Beach House; The Alter opens with singer Jenn Wasner recalling Annie Lennox’s vampire serenade, before the instrumentation settles into a Grizzly Bear groove; Holy Holy twiddles the amp dials, raising the volume one moment only to drop it away to a whisper come the middle eight; while Dogs Eyes could be a drowsier Throwing Muses.
The opening run gives them an impressive four for four, and though the final score isn’t quite full-marks (thanks to some comparatively un-eventful stretches in the latter half), it remains an impressive tally. They’re not reconfiguring the musical landscape, but like the ancient tree they’re named after, they’re putting down lasting roots.
Out 7th March
Civilian opens with a blanket of warm, fuzzy noise enveloping background chat, ushering the listener into Wye Oak’s world gently but resolutely. A lovely world it is too: Two Small Deaths echoes the woozy tone of Asleep In The Back if performed by Beach House; The Alter opens with singer Jenn Wasner recalling Annie Lennox’s vampire serenade, before the instrumentation settles into a Grizzly Bear groove; Holy Holy twiddles the amp dials, raising the volume one moment only to drop it away to a whisper come the middle eight; while Dogs Eyes could be a drowsier Throwing Muses.
The opening run gives them an impressive four for four, and though the final score isn’t quite full-marks (thanks to some comparatively un-eventful stretches in the latter half), it remains an impressive tally. They’re not reconfiguring the musical landscape, but like the ancient tree they’re named after, they’re putting down lasting roots.
Out 7th March
Kurt Vile - Smoke Ring For My Halo (****)
“Shrink myself just like a Tom Thumb and hide in my baby’s hands” sings Kurt Vile on album opener Baby’s Arms, “because except for her there ain’t nothing to latch on to.” A couple of lines are all it takes for Vile to confirm his lyrical talents (it’s a step up from “I got a trumpet/I know where to dump it” at any rate), the clarity of their delivery locating this fourth effort a world away from the Philadelphian’s early lo-fi recordings.
As on Matador breakthrough Childish Prodigy, Vile is backed by the Violators, pushing him further still from the scrappy CD-Rs of his youth, yet existing Vile-ophiles will nonetheless feel right at home amidst Smoke Ring for My Halo’s modern slant on old familiar sounds. Last year, Ariel Pink delivered a similarly-styled collection of accessible melodies cocked askew, and though comparatively straightforward, Vile comfortably matches their glories.
Out 7th March
“Shrink myself just like a Tom Thumb and hide in my baby’s hands” sings Kurt Vile on album opener Baby’s Arms, “because except for her there ain’t nothing to latch on to.” A couple of lines are all it takes for Vile to confirm his lyrical talents (it’s a step up from “I got a trumpet/I know where to dump it” at any rate), the clarity of their delivery locating this fourth effort a world away from the Philadelphian’s early lo-fi recordings.
As on Matador breakthrough Childish Prodigy, Vile is backed by the Violators, pushing him further still from the scrappy CD-Rs of his youth, yet existing Vile-ophiles will nonetheless feel right at home amidst Smoke Ring for My Halo’s modern slant on old familiar sounds. Last year, Ariel Pink delivered a similarly-styled collection of accessible melodies cocked askew, and though comparatively straightforward, Vile comfortably matches their glories.
Out 7th March
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