The aforementioned single opens the release, starting out as “a slow, warm folk song sung in a tone somewhere between forlorn and contemplative” and escalating across its length into a fierce, grungy rock song that signs out in a “maelstrom of noise.” This coupling of introspective reflection and boisterous intensity quickly establishes itself as the Oceanator trademark. ‘Baby Won’t You’ is completely different sound-wise yet established from the same spirit. It’s something to do with anger, and something to do with strength, and something to do with the frustration borne of always having to be angry and strong.

“So don’t try to tell me your gun isn’t fucking loaded
‘cause you still brought it out to scare me.
And I don’t need your comments or your so called compliments
so please won’t you fucking spare me
When you and your friends scream at me from your open car window
When i’m just trying to ride my bike
It’s not alright”

Which isn’t to say the EP is seven variations on a theme. Okusami’s versatility circumvents the problem through sheer imagination and range. ‘Afternoon’ and ‘Sunrise’, although bouncy pop songs on the surface, contain enlightening lyrics full of hopes and expectations rather than realities. The prospect of these versions not coming to pass provides an implicit desperation and sadness, and gives the songs texture and depth that goes far beyond anything that could be described simply as “pop”. Thus, the tracks both expand the Oceanator horizons and avoid undermining the other songs on the release. Conversely, ‘I Don’t Mind’ and ‘First Sight’ are restrained folk songs, the former containing a cynical sort of honesty, the latter allowing a certain degree of romance into the cracks of a failing relationship, both songs stylistically apart form some of the album’s other tracks, but made of the same pure elements.

Closer ‘Fall Back Down’ is the polar opposite, a long, brooding track which eventually tops the noise and intensity of ‘Nowhere Nothing’. It’s a fittingly powerful end to a great collection of songs.

So if I fall all the way back down, I’m taking you with me.
If we have to be underground, then I don’t wanna do it alone.
Everything coming down around us, crumbling at the slightest touch
Take my hand, we’ll go out together

EP is out now and you can grab it from the Oceanator Bandcamp page.

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The track begins as a slow, warm folk song sung in a tone somewhere between forlorn and contemplative, though soon morphs into something more dramatic. Starting with the middle verse, where Okusami’s guitar and vocals slow like a steadying breath, the song slowly emerges into something wider and richer and full of impassioned life, all culminating in the maelstrom of noise that sees the track out.

“Close your eyes
we’ll take the first step at the same time
into that dark unknown
beyond these bulbs
if we ever emerge again
think of what we’ll tell them
when we were nowhere, we were nothing”

You can grab the track on a pay-what-you-can basis now on the Oceanator Bandcamp page, and be sure to keep your eyes peeled for any future releases.

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Vagabon is the recording project of Lætitia Tamko who, along with Eva Lawitts (bass) and Elise Okusami (drums), makes a robust blend of indie rock and bedroom pop. Persian Garden, which came out last November, is a mini-album centred on the departure (and continued absence) of a friend or loved one which pushes and pulls in all directions, as if straining against some emotional shackles (self-imposed or otherwise). Opener ‘Cold Apartment Floors’ is a good example. The lyrics and instrumentation conjure a disconsolate air for the most part, but brimming beneath is a sense of something else, a certain charge in the guitar and Tamko’s vocals which add another dimension, hinting at a greater depth to the whole situation:

“I know its my fault, I gave up on everything
and I see you happy, it warms my heart.

And we said its not the end but she wore that white dress
and I changed, we are not the same but i thought you’d wait

So we sit on my cold apartment floor where we thought we’d stay in love”

From here the album accelerates with ‘Shadows’, an urgent track with ramshackle banjo and steel guitar supporting lyrics centred on wandering and movement (Vagabon is a meaningful moniker). The song has the breathless feel of constant action, Tamko stealing gasps between lines as she lets her words stream out in a desperate rush. ‘Vermont II’ deals with the longing that comes with a change of heart (“Freddy come back I know you love where you are /
but I think I changed my mind”) while ‘Heroine’ traces addiction through small towns and cold winters, detailing the disappointment of relapsing into old habits (“winter will never be the same now that you’re back to your old ways”), the guitars rising into squally chaos and forcing Tamko to wail behind the noise. ‘Vermont’ squirms in a different direction: backwards. Here the secondary character (Freddy?) is packing for Vermont, allowing us to see the narrator pre-mind change, wounded by deceit but trying to heal, if only to prove a point. ‘Sharks’ picks up from this point, capturing the slump in self-worth that succeeds lies and rows.

“Run and tell everybody that Laetitia is
a small fish

I’m just a small fish.

And you’re a shark that hates everything.
You’re a shark that eats every fish”

Vagabon make the special kind of sad and confused music that has the opposite effect on the listener. The sort of music that makes you feel part of something, a big sad and confused gang spread out all over the world, connected by shared experience and a sneaky feeling that life is worth living.

You can buy Persian Garden now from the Vagabon Bandcamp page. It was out on cassette via Miscreant Records but we’re waaaay too late for that. Check Ebay, maybe?

P.S. Lætitia plays guitar in Real Life Buildings, who we like very much.

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