Britta Persson, bitter person? No. Another Stockholm friend of Camera Obscura's, the well fringed Persson makes music that's big (but not crowded) on sonic possibility but learns to admire the little things and the small ideals. Seems she can even play with the concept of time and motion.
Sounds like Eels. One of their/his electric piano ones.
The actively dirty four-sevenths of the Bad Seeds unveil the first track from the second album, the Cave touchstone here being planted somewhere around The Firstborn Is Dead but still full of that wild guitar sound and lasciviousness like it's out of style. Robert Fripp's on the 12"!
From The Quiet Lamb, an album that seems to have been about to be released for longer than we can imagine (ETA recently changed from August to a more necessarily elastic 'autumn'. Powerful, ebbing, gripping stuff. Starts quietly, as Peel used to say.
He's back! And he's slipped back into his lush crooner at the dark end of Lover's Lane mode. Lekman's explained how the song came to be in a decent length note.
The latest, and you'd have to say most likely given prevailing climates, attempt to break Flynn as the housewives' folk crossover choice having fallen on deaf ears, it's back to letting the songs stand up or fall for themselves. This driving, sawing single does, accompanied by a deftly animated video.
Not to gloat or anything, but given this song broke on the blogs last week we first mentioned this band last July. Many are ascribing this to c***lw**e, but Beach House, Broadcast and Slowdive are the actual natural bedfellows of this hazy, dreamy concoction of dappled meadows over which shadows deeply hang. And hark, the Be My Baby beat too.
Listen to the male vocal style on this slab of Super 8 dreampop and then wonder how it was that it took three further months after its initial demo upload for anyone to go "hang on, isn't that that Warmsley?" They're touring with Frankie & The Heartstrings in October (and 30th September), which despite appearances we aren't sponsoring. Might not even be able to get to any of it, in truth. Inevitably.
Ah, now after the last album's far too smoothed out sound this, while hardly art or hardly garbage, is more like the bustle and fury we knew Hutch, Kathy and whoever's drumming for them now for.
More A Hundred Miles Off than the more electrified You & Me, although Hamilton Leithauser says this is pretty much the only track that is so openly backwards looking. Moreover it's strangely New Orleans wake-like.
Actually, not Yuck but Yu(c)k, the means through which they now put out their keys-led contemplative side, and at least on recorded evidence to date their better side. Eventually the reverb pedal gets pushed, which makes it all the more effective.
It's already been playlisted, but just out is the new Sky Larkin video. Note the director's careful framing/hiding of Nestor's DFA79 T-shirt.