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Now that the days are shortening and the nights are lengthening, the chill in the night air hinting the onset of winters cold breathe marking the end of nature’s season of growth, then what better way to snuggle up ready for hibernation than to curl up with this tasty compilation for company.
‘Sunset : False’ is the inaugural release for the newly formed Slow Noir label which has connections with the online underground music site / retailer Penny Black music. Fifteen exclusive cuts from some of the most talented and fragile souls to be found currently orbiting in pop’s spectrum, some names are familiar and some soon to be, safe to say that if you love your aural experiences to be of a gentle tingling refrain then this will hit the spot.
Opening the collection is Anamude known better as Ana Hortillosa a San Fransisco based artiste who since 2001 has produced three albums. ‘New leaves’ is a gorgeous slice of wistful guitar folk pop that temptingly hints at a shy P J Harvey playing from John Fahey’s songbook. Equally treasurable is ‘Ash ballad’ from Anna Kashfi who some of you may remember knocked us straight off our listening perch with their captivating album for Emma’s House records entitled ‘Philokalia’ a few years back. Nothing changes in the intervening period I’m glad to say, still the sweet taste of drying tears flavour their elegant compositions, a haunting mix of distilled pastoral folk and witching hour story telling as the string arrangements tease the tumbling chords while Sian Webley’s crushing vocals cruise with gentle menace. Why Arco aren’t more well known is one of life’s little puzzles, with each passing release they manage to surpass previous conquests leaving you to come to the conclusion that surely there are only so many sad songs one band can write. ‘Waiting’ is achingly fragile and despite it’s seemingly brief appearance the trembling tremors it leaves behind in it’s passing resonate long after it concludes.
Having peppered decent record shops with a handful of memorable releases and one delicious album, Baptiste sadly called it a day earlier this year, yet not before avowing themselves of this little delicacy. ‘Postcards’ crafts itself in tortured melodies that hypnotically chill the listener into submission. Deanna Varagona has in her time worked with such luminaries as Lambchop and Neutral Milk Hotel and ‘Missing a friend’ shows a rare and unique songwriting talent and hints greatly at the reason why this Southern belle is in so much demand as she delivers a countrified beauty of lost loved straight from the heart of Nashville. If the heart has survived this far then the chiming lament of Harper Lee will surely pull the strings taut to breaking point, cavernous back drops and floating side-winding hooks benefit this slow burner with a subtle epic feel.
Just when you thought you couldn’t take another sadly strummed guitar along come French duo Melmac with their curiously minimal brand of chamber pop. ‘Crash’ enlists to its cause drone frequency landscapes yet not before taking us on a guided tour through the engine room where the name of the game is ‘I can name the micro chip chirping away in one’, once over the awkward bleeps and squelches it all settles down to a church service serenity, very nice indeed. Those with a penchant for prime time Buzzcocks may be interested in the in your face fizzy power pop antics of Sheffield based Repoman whose ‘Songs they never played on the radio’ gives a three minute adrenalin fused fix charged with enough hooks to have you diving for the air guitars and re-acquainting yourself with the pogo. And how can we resist the procession like magnificence of Saint Joan, ‘Electric light shine on’ trips with all the grandeur of Godspeed drawing pistols with Morricone. Last but certainly not least and what perfect way to bring down the curtain of this compilation than in the presence of the awesome atmospheric sound-scapers The Workhouse. With their debut album ‘The end of the pier’ currently hogging the hi-fi and due out shortly on Bearos, for those not hitherto acquainted with this quartet then ‘Housing Estate’ provides a glimpse of their mercurial delights. A dreaming cocktail of ethereal textures and coalescing chiming guitars plucked from the stars, tender and loving in design and crushing in it’s own longing hopelessness. Simply touching.
MARK BARTON
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