But then you’ll stick this record on and you’ll be lost, or rather, suspended like a prehistoric fly in amber, in a powerful collection of tracks that do little else but emanate an incredible sense of presence.
I had a stop talking card I used to give to people. That usually elicited a certain response!
Amsterdam’s a bit like a patchwork quilt. A bit homely, a bit old-fashioned but reassuringly comforting and welcoming. All of which is a bit of a long-winded introduction to a band, I’ll admit.
I wanted to put out this certain like grotesqueness that I feel is missing from a feminine representation in music or film.
TWOD have craftily created their own little sonic ballpark to play around in and Lost In The Dream shows that they’re simply getting better at it.
a beautiful, throbbing, tender bruise of a record
Once the decision was made to do it. You have to be fearless. You can’t go into it like a pussy.
Maybe the Henk and Melle record from a few years back gave Henk Koorn a new sense of what could be utilised in Hallo Venray. Maybe he’s just decided to show his softer side.
It’s rather that their sound is one that strips away a lot of what most people use to create pop songs. They aren’t really looking to communicate on an immediate level.
What is it about Keel Her’s debut? Well, maybe it’s the way that things are just never what they seem.
Tracks such as Satellites and Cthulu are like staring at a range of mountains and seeing the thunder clouds form. Drums in the deep. It’s epic stuff, it really is.
Throughout there’s a feeling of industriousness; the record’s like a production line; these restless, fluid, but preplanned rhythmical structures that ebb and flow through the music, almost becoming narrative threads over a number of tracks.
I wonder if ITGWO is about that bakfietsmoeder/woolly jumper /perfect teeth/artisan bread festival on a Dutch island? Hmmm.
Not only that, if Sacred Bones were really in charge of food an’ all that, they’d discover how to make proper, totally natural, no additive, pie chips and gravy meals that kept you slim.
In some ways the confusion they generate is akin to having a room full of blindfolded, hyperactive, Haribo-stuffed kids who are all trying to pin the tail on the donkey.
A review in which your CUNT of a reviewer tells you that there are only 20 of these CDs (I got #7, so just like those Big Eyed Beans from Venus, there’s a limited supply) and they’re FROM SOMEONE HE VAGUELY KNOWS....
They are, in the truest sense of the word, exceptional.
And so was this whole evening.
I want Han Bennink to do that daft thump with his foot, or shout “yeah” every time I brew up. I want to know where to buy trousers like Han Bennink’s trousers. I’m obsessed.
Could the Paard confound Terrie’s recent comments made in the Dutch press about playing soulless new pop venues?
What really sucks you in is the bass line which, by contrast to all the guitar shards being chucked at you by Gwen and Corno, is as smooth as velvet. Madness.