The 80s sometimes feel like a hazy, distant memory (well, they are 30 years ago – gulp!) For all the rose-tinted nostalgia, there were a lot of bad things happening (see: Cold War, Reaganomics, Earthquakes, Punky Brewster*, etc). (more…)
Liz Harris, aka Grouper, has always managed to paint the bleakest landscapes with music. Her newest album, The Man Who Died in his Boat, continues the tradition, delivering the musical equivalent of a J.W.M. Turner : slightly blurry, awe inspiring and reminiscent of the treacherous sea.
The Man Who Died in his Boat isn’t exactly your normal dream pop album. It takes the shoegaze approach of making the vocals another stringed instrument, dispersed into the misty morning, but without the heavy distortion. This is more like a lucid dream where you are in control of the otherwordly happenings around you.
3 songs in and ‘Cloud in places’ finds you in a magical place, like a calm rain during the magic hour. It’s no longer day, but night hasn’t still fallen. You might see one or two stars starting to smile and the every day problems are starting to flock away into the backburner of your mind.
Although it is quite dreamy, there are bits when it borders into becoming an eerie, unsettling nightmare. ‘Being her shadow’ is soothing, but you can’t feel that sense of foreboding that things are not right. The extreme reverb and infinite repeat in ‘Difference (voices)’ is a joy, but, again, it feels like it’s a harbinger of doom. A rather pleasant sounding doom, though. A piece like ‘STS’ does feel like hopelessness and abandonment.
But it’s not all gloom here. ‘The man who died in his boat’ might sound like it’s promising a dirge, but it is brighter than expected; a first ray of sunshine after a long night. ‘Cover the long way’, my fave track in The Man Who Died in his Boat is the soundtrack to a 4 minute hug. It’s endearing and relaxing, slightly mesmerising you with the lovely vocals and hummings of Liz Harris.
It’s strange. Even if you can’t make out the lyrics that well, Grouper manages to convey all feelings so well. Longing, desperation, sadness, heck, even hope. Lo Fi might be a gimmick for many a band, but for Grouper it’s not only a way of life, but a well-developed style.
Words: Sam J. Valdés López
I really don’t like the smell of Drakkar Noir, or any perfume at all, but Mom insisted I wore some for this party that the nuns organised at school. “It will do you good to go out of the house and see your friends”, Mom said. (more…)
There’s days when the cognitive dissonance between “fanboy” and “critic” exacerbate the already bloody conflict in the head of a humble servant. Today feels like both sides are out with all guns a-blazin’, as the newest EP by Cats:For:Peru puts me in the difficult position: should I be honest or should I be empathic? (more…)
It’s a strange thing, the situation with the Shakespeare’s. It’s a rather excellent pub with some tasty ale (I.e. anything by Acorn) but you don’t hear much about the gigs there. It befuddles me, as the music room is rather excellent and it’s not really that far from the main transport routes.
Oh, well. (more…)
Somewhere in México City‘s Roma Colony, where the trendy hipster and the reasonable good cross paths, I meet Renee, the singer (and creator) of Mooi. The weather is cloudy (lovely Mexican Summer…) and she invites me to come in. A lil’ whine behind a door reveals that Renee has an extremely loveable dog called Mia. With one hand scribbling in a well-worn notebook and the other petting Mia ( becoming her new chewing toy in the process), we talk about music, paintings and the universe… (more…)