As someone who adamantly sides with Harry Partch’s disdain
for the commercial fascism known as western pop, I can greatly get down with
this lo-fi, 1950’s style-reverb-worshipping, pop/folk serenade/dittery. The
tones herein recall early Clientelle spaciness, but with less worry about the
softness of pitch-perfect vocal washings. Is this ‘Punk Spirit’ or just the
sound of the fuck-it revolution?! Twelve tones my ass! Careful background
accompaniment fades in and out of trashcan-distant vocals/guitarstrum and
simple, stoccato bass lines; a tasteful drum kit makes appearances here &
there. Did I mention reverb? I should mention reverb; what it must sound like for
Oscar the Grouch whenever he gets woken up by majestic, reverberant passersby.
It’s not gratuitous; Danny Lango arranges the songs (or does the songs, like, totally
arrange DL, man?) so that the space is consistently filled with bubble-gum-s(t)icky
hooks that us listeners will only later realize we’ve been laced with such deeply
buried, noisy additives.
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- Jacob An Kittenplan
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