they’re gadamn expensive and useless, and they’re waning, and now upgraded with eye enlargement and smooth white skin mode, with the usual jologs special effects like hearts and kisses and twinkling stars.
i first heard of this band on the cure tribute album last year, with their rendition of the classic “close to me” and they registered on my brain like a highly contagious highly resilient idea (you get the reference, i hope). with a simple beat simple slow leads and that all resounding grazing sound, it was both profound, haunting delicate yet simple. im just mesmerized on how it uplifts my spirits on down days given how slow and down it sounds. it has been in my player since and never left.
give it a listen,
and now they’ve released their new album “House of Tounges”, here’s an excerpt of a pitchfork review.
Wild eclecticism doesn’t necessarily equal bad record, as Janelle Monáe most recently argued with her taxonomy breaching and brilliant The ArchAndroid. But to make a record that won’t wear out its welcome by the end of track one takes a certain amount of taste and self-restraint. Not surprisingly, Tongue's more effective tracks, such as “Real Low Riders”, are its relatively discerning ones. Propelled by a powerful little drum riff and a catchy pop melody that LoBue interprets with mournful understatement, “Nine O'Clock in France” is the best song here— even if the progressive instrumental pileup makes its ending less satisfying than its beginning. But I guess we were warned: True to its title, House of Tongues is a tower of Babel.
Jack Tatum, the one-man lo-fi mastermind behind Wild Nothing, sounds like he’s still living through the Reagan years. The songs collected on his Captured Tracks debut, Gemini, are able and reverent appropriations of 80s post-punk, new wave, and dream-pop influences— from the Cocteau Twins' hazy minor-key fantasias, to Johnny Marr's elided guitar work in the Smiths, to OMD's twinkling-synth balladry. Even the blogged-about cover of Kate Bush's “Cloudbusting” that's streaming on Tatum's MySpace sounds faithful to the point of outright deference. But instead of coming across as just another musically capable scenester ripping off already tired reference points, Tatum’s bedroom dreamscapes sound more like a teenager sincerely trying to pay homage to the artists he most dearly regards.
On Gemini standout “Summer Holiday”, Tatum makes a slight songwriting detour, turning his (shoe)gaze to the sort of C86-indebted pop that like-minded revivalists the Pains of Being Pure at Heart worship. The strummy, Slumberland-sounding guitar chords are present and accounted for, as are the deceptively simple timekeeping and twin-guitar bridge breakdown that mark this particular strain of indie-pop. Tatum’s lovelorn lyrical concerns fall in line nicely with twee’s aims as well, as he warns a supposed crush not to “let me wreck myself again,” before promising that he’s “driving to your parents’ house/ Just want to visit/ And I’m sleeping in your brother’s bed.” His later admittance that he really wants to “sneak into my room/ And crawl under the covers” further establishes a time-honored teenage sense of terror by way of complete retreat.
So Jack Tatum is an able revivalist, and he’s done his homework with this stuff— but “Summer Holiday” rises above mere pastiche thanks to the song’s hair-raising chorus, which consists solely of Tatum’s wordless, cavernous moan. It’s a left-turn that grabs your attention sneakily and makes you forget any allegations of unoriginality that might be lobbed his way— let’s just hope he has more of those up his sleeve.
— Larry Fitzmaurice, February 12, 2010 via pitchfork.com
I first heard this in the GQ for IPAD ad. what a great summer tune, just makes me wanna pack up and have a road trip to nowhere. happy summer people ^^