Graham Reid | | <1 min read
Grand Archives: Oslo Novelist
It would be fair to note that after saying very favourable things about this band's impressive debut The Grand Archives, I fully expected to never hear another note by them.
Not that they would break up, but that their particular charms would go past so many people that whatever they did next might not get released in New Zealand.
It is my great pleasure to announce therefore . . .
Yes, this band out of Washington state once again deliver their magical soft-pop, here even more bathed in Californian sunlight or allowing for that slight chill of the early evening.
With pedal steel in a few places, gentle harmonica, multi-layered close harmonies and backing vocals by the likes of Sera Cahoone, this album washes over you like a warm breeze blown by Brian Wilson who has inhaled a little country-lite.
If that sounds so unassuming as to be ignorable then I agree. As with that debut you could let this one go right by you, but again as with that debut -- as I said at the time -- I feel my life is the richer for their quiet charms, gentle and soothing sounds, and pop smarts.
And as before they drop in just enough of the other -- a bent waltz, guitars which have a wee sting in the tail, some moody piano and processed guitars, disconcerting lyrics -- to keep you alert and interested beyond the surfaces.
Real nice, glad to have them back at my house.
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