Home Is Where You Hang Yourself

Hallelujah for sad sweet songs.

[I]”Hallelujah for sleeping pills and amen for a good stiff drink”[/I] – forget airbrushed posters of leaping dolphins and aspirational homilies about mountains, in the arena of lo-fi endeavour, this is exactly the kind of motivational motto that belongs in the bedroom studio.

[a]Her Space Holiday[/a] travel agent Marc Bianchi might come from a West Coast hardcore background, but when it comes to hypochondria, insomnia, paranoia and unfortunate dating rituals, he’s returning to the motherlode. Mining the mordant fatalism of the compulsively over-analytical and acutely unemployed – a poker match between Bill Callahan and Bianchi could last some months – he dignifies these fundamentally hapless traits with sleep-swept, laundry-rumpled beauty. A ferment of Elliott Smith, Spiritualized and Super Furry Animals, it’s perfect music for those times when you really need a day off from yourself, melodies speaking loud and clear while quiet Plaid-like patter line-taps the mental static. The melodrama-queen timpanis and mantric convulsions of ‘Snakecharmer’; the stomach ache and rampant guilt of ‘Sugar Water’; the romantic wish fulfilment of ‘The Doctor And The DJ’: it’s essences and details, sighs and glances.

Hallelujah for sad sweet songs. Amen for strange young men. If you look on the bright side with disbelief, they’re here to help.