At Ye Olde Sleeping Village, it's a little odd for the vultures (and other carrion-feeders) to spend time occupying any locale other than the maggoty plague-pit. Thus, imagine our surprise when a Turkey Vulture rapped, Poe-esquely, on the door of our hallowed scriptorum. It presented a package before taking gangly flight--and so, here we are, new Turkey Vulture demo track in hand. How apropos. Funny how it happens, but what can we say? Music promo is an interesting world these days.
For those of you not in the know, Turkey Vulture are a duo out of southern Connecticut with little regard for genre barriers or convention. Their singular brand of metal-by-way-of-punk-by-way-of-americana is informed by a motley cast of characters--not least among them being Dolly Parton Herself. We reviewed their two-track this summer, and, despite having very few songs indeed to grasp in grubby hands, we’re always impressed with whatever Jessie May and Jim Clegg have cooked up. The latest, an acoustic cover of folk ballad “In The Pines,” is no exception to this rule.
It's been a while since The Captain has made it down to the Stoned Village,* or I mean, Sleeping Village, what's the difference? I've been up on Saturn 9 laying down some new track for the world to decimate themselves to.
Here we have The King's Pistol. These fools don't even know what they've gotten themselves into with the likes of me. The bass player, Andy, seems to be scared of my threats, and is worried I'm going to come to his work. He gave me the address, the silly bastard. Why would you give The Decimator of Worlds your location, doesn't he know I have a space ship?
I am not a child of the 60's or 70's. I am, however, a child of a child of the 60's and 70's, and that has made all the difference in my current state of musical appreciation. Not to say the hippie aesthetic is my thing--far from it--but folk and proto-rock planted a certain something, and every once in a while, it's fun to revisit. Enter Flowers, the forthcoming debut LP from Sweden's Children of the Sün.
Sonically and thematically, Children of the Sün's brand seems, at first blush, easy to place. Vocal harmonies? Check. Liberal application of hammond-esque keys? Check. Pitter-pat percussion? Check. Airy acoustics? Check. Back-to-the-earth sentimentalism? Double check. Take your favorite carefree folk rock--Traffic or perhaps Blind Faith as several examples among many--and mix, sparingly, with the modern edge and vocal prowess of MaidaVale or Halos and Hurricanes-era Avatarium. The latter may be a stretch, but Josefina Berglund Ekholm and Jennie-Ann Smith certainly share similarities in syrupy-yet-grounded delivery.
Providing thoughtful reviews of music that is heavy, gloomy, and loud enough to wake us from slumber. Written by a groggy-eyed, highfalutin peasantry.