What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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Cherry Peel, the first of many in of Montreal's prolific discography, is quite the adorable curiosity. While on a song-by-song basis, Cherry Peel's 14 efforts that pluck the most queer and delicate elements from Twee Pop, Lo-Fi Indie, and Sunshine Pop doesn't wow, the candid and humbling origin of Kevin Barnes as conflicted bleeding heart is a joy to experience. Knowing soon the levels of expression he'd reach. Without the proper recording studio to exacerbate gay, maximalist bombast, of Montreal is left to elate through Barnes' lyrics, whimsical vocals, and the production, which finds ingenuity through the surface friction found at the crossroads of innocence and abuse. What lies at the heart of Cherry Peel is Barnes' sexuality, and the wishful thinking he has to living a life without sorrow and regret.
Tracks like 'When You're Loved Like You Are,' 'In Dreams I Dance With You,' and the plaintive 'Tim I Wish You Were Born A Girl' unveil the portrait of a youth obsessed with romance from a non-companion that descends him into unrequited love. The production, which remains chipper and chaste throughout - drawing comparisons to contemporaries like Heavenly, The Minders, and Neutral Milk Hotel - keeps hope and serendipity alive, which only adds to the inevitable realization of loneliness. These songs often feel trapped in a childhood level of callow, as if Barnes and of Montreal are compensating for an emerging adulthood. Tracks like 'Sleeping In The Beetle Bug,' 'Springtime Is The Season,' and 'At Night Trees Aren't Sleeping' are seeped in frivolous Twee Pop bordering on vaudevillian Children's Music. Here, melody and majesty dominates all, as if one is forcibly burrowing darker memories from existence.
Truthfully, I love Cherry Peel much more on paper than in execution. Apart from 'Montreal' and 'I Was Watching Your Eyes' there isn't really a forgettable song, but the similarities abound - as influence arises in the obvious candidates; The Beatles, The Millennium, and The Beach Boys - cause variety in terms of bewitching importance to be at a minimum. It's consistent, almost to a fault. 'Don't Ask Me To Explain' and 'You've Got A Gift' are the two exceptions, as the former vitalizes through rambunctious, pre-Animal Collective Noise Pop, while the latter breaks down many barriers with a bridge that transforms into Krautrock and an extended coda that hulas on a tropical island of bliss. My two favorites, though Cherry Peel as a whole is a satisfying - albeit modestly grim - take on the child trapped in the closet.
B-
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Though it's growing in popularity, u.n.p.o.c.'s sole album Fifth Column can most certainly still be labelled a hidden gem. As its cult status grows, the gem will forever remain, for these are some of the most brilliant, creative, and enjoyable Pop songs one will hear in the Lo-Fi, independent scene. Simple, shifting easily between comical and heartrending, and striking in poise, Fifth Column never ceases to satisfy. If one weren't familiar with u.n.p.o.c.'s history, which, let's be honest, is most of us, then you'd be remiss for misconstruing this as a greatest hits compilation. Largely due to the staggering quality, partly due to the incoherency that plagues Fifth Column. But don't fret, that fitful unpredictability is half the fun.
It's tough to pin down u.n.p.o.c.'s style beyond the obvious Lo-Fi Indie attributor, which occurs as a direct result of the limited access primary creator Tom Bauchop had. It's Bedroom Rock, not to fit an aesthetic (which wasn't a thing yet), but rather to accommodate predefined means. Certain songs, like the hollow Western of 'I Don't Feel Too Steady On My Feet,' the Neutral Milk Hotel-esque 'Avignon,' or the courteous Art Punk of 'Jump Jet Friend,' delight with a playful nonchalance that's equal parts composed and emancipated. While others, like the revelatory 'Here On My Own,' the inverted Beatles of 'Dark Harbour Wall,' or the haunting elegy of 'Beautiful To Me' excel with a mature sobriety that prevents Fifth Column from being criticized for lack of solemnity. In other words, as you can see by the stark depictions of each aforementioned tracks, u.n.p.o.c. have it all.
Every track has an identity of its own, which is a rare accomplishment and an even rarer endorsement on my end. After a handful of listens one will be able to recall every track's sound, tempo, and notable moments by a quick glance to the tracklist. Therefore, singling out favorites is perhaps a futile endeavor, for everyone will likely have different answers. The only track I would abstain from hearing again is 'Been A While Since I Went Away,' and that is solely due to Bauchop's grating pronunciation of "since I went away" in the chorus. A personal vendetta that can be ignored. For favorites, I'd pick 'I Don't Feel Too Steady On My Feet,' 'Here On My Own,' 'Avignon,' 'I Love You, Lady Luck,' 'Some Kinds Of People,' and 'Nicaragua.' See what I mean? Fifth Column is the greatest hits compilation from a band who never intended to achieve such greatness. By and large, that effortlessness is where Pop music thrives.
B+
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It's rare for a newcomer in the Electronic genre, especially one as intricate and textured as Microhouse, to be as clean, atmospheric, and rich as Gidge on Autumn Bells. Yet here we are. The Swedish producer's 2014 debut never intends to wrack attention with arresting stylization, or demand a revitalization as Electronica artists are prone to do. Instead, humble maturity defines Autumn Bells, as the tranquil beats and contemplative pacing situate Gidge amongst a litany of his peers and influences. Because of that reluctance to transcend, Autumn Bells will never be seen as a necessary piece of Electronica, especially as the passing wave of agrarian Downtempo came and went before Gidge even got his start.
That doesn't mitigate the beauty found within though, as I'm reminded of Emancipator's work of acclimating the intrinsically-human element of beatsmithing to a natural world devoid of interference. Their teaching relies on the unfeigned simpatico relationship between human and nature, with the former respecting the virtues of the latter by only adding textural ambience that'll heighten Mother Earth, not detract from it. While Emancipator is Gidge's closest comparison, there's plenty of other aura-driven artists whose influence can be felt across Autumn Bells. Jon Hopkins' driving gossamer structures emerge on the lengthy 'You' and 'Fauna, Pt. II,' as Gidge treats this organic unison as a form of enlightenment beyond our temporal states. As can be seen throughout the LP, Gidge's inexperience never shows, as the production quality is both astounding and superbly layered. A few other comparisons come in Hiatus' ghostly gauze on 'Huldra,' Dirty Elegance's innervated, transmuted vocal samples on 'I Fell In Love,' and even Boards Of Canada's cryptic kaleidoscope of desaturated hues on 'Rest.'
That is to say, if it wasn't already apparent, that Autumn Bells isn't a particularly original album. That lack of identity can be forgiven based solely on the expert sound design, well-crafted builds, and engrossing autumnal atmosphere. My personal favorite, the rapturous closer 'Norrland,' I actually struggle to find an equal, with its striking use of horns and total undulating pace; rising to picturesque heights, falling to complete silence. Listening now though, Jon Hopkins would again apply. But to warrant such a comparison is a testament to Gidge's talents. Even for a debut, creativity aside, Autumn Bells flourishes in the calm pastures of our wild's beauty.
B-
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Another Ambient album, another project that has left me unmoved. Based on the arrangements, atmosphere, and curious use of samples, it seems as though Ricky Eat Acid aimed to rouse suspicion and arouse reaction. Three Love Songs does nothing of the sort, spending large quantities of time meandering around quiet passages of tranquility that, while pretty and serene, don't intermingle amicably with the unnerving sample monologues and jarring juxtapositions. In other words, Three Love Songs seems lost as to its actual intent, which is a surefire means for failure given an Ambient genre so reliant on context and, well, ambience.
There are numerous examples of this incompatibility; some I will list now. The nightmarish opener 'There Is Only You In The Light & Nothing Else' prepares this album for moody, precarious Dark Ambient, only for the ensuing twinkle of Glitch-infused starlight, a la Fennesz, on 'Driving Alone Past Roadwork At Night' to null any momentum the previous aesthetic might've had. The same goes for the unsettling, seven-minute monologue found on 'In Rural Virginia,' diminished in gravity by surrounding tracks 'Big Man's Last Trip Outside' and 'Inside Your House; It Will Swallow Us Too,' the latter of which takes home the cake of Three Love Songs' best with a gorgeous piano shifting in and out of the ether with wobbly mechanics kindling a ticklish sort of romance. But then, the cheaply Witch House-esque beat on 'It Will Draw Me Over To It Like It Always Does' instantly pulls the listener out of introspective sentimentality and into the forefront of some agitated dance battle that sticks out like an errant thumb on the LP. All the while, a heartrending loop, akin to Eluvium, on 'I Can Hear The Heart Breaking As One' resurrects the sentimentality Ricky Eat Acid proves best at accomplishing, but it's far too small and far too late.
These are just some examples of how discordant Ricky Eat Acid crafts Three Love Songs. And sure, given the loose restraints of Ambient, that could've been the intent, especially with his background in Instrumental Hip-Hop and Glitch-centric Electronica. But that doesn't make it any more gratifying, as that sort of artistic vision can only be achieved with talented angles - of which Ricky Eat Acid rarely prevails - or devised context imprinting a background wherein the shifts in style and mood make sense. If nothing else, Three Love Songs is a showcase of Ricky Eat Acid's many approaches. Some work, many don't.
D
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