Anyway, Saintseneca are back with a new full-length, Such Things, which is very much worth your time. Combining rock, pop, folk and punk with strong writing and clever word play, the band make catchy yet surprisingly deep songs which seem equally suited to live parties and solo headphones sessions. From the up-tempo celebration of ‘River’, which brings to mind Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, the Neutral Milk Hotel-inspired title track and the choral, almost acapella singalong of ‘House Divided’, Such Things is a nuanced collection of indie rock songs which will provoke a fair bit of existential thinking. ‘How Many Blankets Are In The World?’ provides a nice summation of the band’s philosophy and message:

“Life is long
long enough to be mean
Life is short
short enough to mean something
To those who long
those who long for longer”

Such Things is an album which confronts the mysteries of life in a celebratory and/or fulfilling way, favouring finding interest and comfort in the unknowable instead of the nihilism many turn to when thinking of, well… such things.

You can buy Such Things now from the Saintseneca Bandcamp page, or on vinyl from ANTI-.

The post Flash Review: Saintseneca – Such Things appeared first on Various Small Flames.

The Offer is Jones’ first album as Yowler, and one which sees things pared back a whole lot from her work with other bands. The album was apparently recorded in living rooms and bedrooms in the winter of 2013/14, and this secluded recording method is clear to hear. All eight tracks are a study in the art of minimalism, of the exchange between poetry and negative space. There is surprising diversity between songs, but the entirety is mired in a feeling, as if the songs were born out of a frame of mind rather than pure musical inspiration. Whatever the case, Jones creates an atmosphere of haunting intimacy (imagine a Sarah Winchester-fronted Old Earth playing a very quiet acoustic set in your attic at 3am), her voice taking centre stage despite oftentimes being barely more than a whisper.

Opener ‘Water’ burns with quiet intensity, its strange lyrics (it opens with the line “Got to disappear in some great void of water”) feeling oddly personal, giving the whole track the intimacy of hearing about someone else’s dreams. This sensation is one which continues throughout, right down to the visuals of the artwork. The guitars sidle and prowl like shadows and the whole thing seems on the verge of something vaguely dangerous. It’s a lot more than just quiet and pretty folk music, in fact the closest comparison my brain could muster was Brian Borcherdt’s Dusted project, more for the atmosphere than anything tangible. Follow-up ‘Bedroom Wall’ builds this thick smoky ambience with guitars that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Grouper record, but the vocals slash through with clarity, sonically if not thematically, opaque poetics delivered with remarkable confidence. ‘Yowler’ is mostly acoustic guitars and some reserved percussion, allowing Jones’ vocals to give the song its impetus. The lyrics are very sad and strange but also weirdly sweet. Make no mistake that this is, at least on some level, a love song:

“There were ghosts in the sidewalk that night
But the fear of them was absent with you by my side”

‘Holidays’ opens with a brief rumble of oppressive noise, little more than a squally suggestion that feels like a portent nonetheless. When the track starts proper the delicate acoustics and gossamer vocals sound crystal clear and desperately sad, an aural trick that matches the mood of the song as Jones relays the deepest fears of her dreams and nightmares, laying everything bare for the listener, as if her skin has gone all glassy so that we can see the workings of her body pulsing and whirring inside. The majority of the lyrics deal with dream images of being born in a river, under sheets of ice, but the final lines seem like a devastating return to reality, painting the portrait of somebody struggling, “And at Holidays I remember they asked me how I was / And at Holidays I will wonder ‘How much longer?’” ‘7 Towers’ feels spacious, lines of electric guitar floating and swaying in the background, while ‘Belle’ is probably the closest thing to an acoustic folk song on the album, albeit one submerged in underwater reverb. It’s ostensibly a love song, as the beautifully crafted chorus attests:

“The sunset in August in the back of your car
The wondrous falling of a star, far
But close in the shadow of the garden at night
I want to come with you, I will try”

Penultimate track ‘In the Bathroom’ is hushed and subdued, perhaps detailing feelings of  desperation and depression, “To be so full and surrounded by breathing bodies / But only holding one’s mind, having one mind / And it’s not offering anything, no help of any kind”. Finally, the title track offers a pretty devastating distillation of everything the album does and stands for. It’s sparse and dreamy, the by now familiar guitar and vocals augmented with piano and cooing group vocals. The song an unadorned murmur, as if Jones has leaned right in to your ear to deliver the final lines:

“So the offer I make
Is a promise to stay here
May they leave me out their wandering
And be still”

Water permeates the record in all of its guises, in rain and in blood and in sinks, in rivers and seas and oceans, in sheet ice and snow melt and the film over an eye. The Offer becomes the great body of water foretold in the opening track, sometimes frozen and sometimes roiling and always deep and lonely and full of strange, unrecognisable creatures which move according to the primitive, instinctive logic which constitutes existence.

Edit July 2017: Double Double Whammy recently re-released the record on a variety of formats, so head over to the shop to grab the one for you. Of course, you can still download it from the Yowler Bandcamp page if you’d prefer.

The post Yowler – The Offer appeared first on Various Small Flames.

Radiator Hospital is Sam Cook-Parrott and friends (friends with indie rock pedigree – including members of Waxahatchee, All Dogs and Swearin’), who join together to form a pretty formidable lo-fi rock band.

There are fifteen songs on this album, with not one deserving to have been left out, and the band smash through them in under 35 minutes. Opener ‘Leather and Lace’ sets the tone, with a hectic beginning sweeping you off your feet before you know what has hit you, and this continues through to ‘Blue Gown’, with the space for breath between songs small but welcome.

But this isn’t one of those quick albums that attempts to make you dizzy and smash your eardrums and little else. By ‘Cut Your Bangs’ you realise that there is something sad and sincere in the lyrics, forcing you back to the start to reconsider the opening pair. Once this moment of realisation has occurred, Torch Song spreads its wings into its true form, a mishmash of pop and punk and poetry. Sincerity and honesty set this aside from the usual ‘Let’s Fuck Shit Up’ garage rock bands, and allows Radiator Hospital to achieve something with much greater nuance and depth (while still having fun).

The lyrics are displayed as prose on the Bandcamp page and reading them really helps the narrative of Torch Song to stand out. A tale of love punctuated with joy and regret and depression, the story is highly detailed yet curiously vague, with names and genders left unclear, leaving a You and a Me and the feelings that You and Me always seem to share. The result is something which feels highly personal but could be applied to anyone. It’s highly personal for everybody.

“We walked further than I thought we would. You looked at me like I was your way out, I looked at you, thought I’d never stop lookin’.”

The Torch Song LP is out now on Salinas Records. Order it here!

The post Radiator Hospital – Torch Song appeared first on Various Small Flames.