Bristol is in the spotlight these days. WhenFrancois and the Atlas Mountains is currently performing an independent force trour memorable, it was the turn of singular Misophone released their thirteenth album (yes, yes), this time at Another Record in France.
If the duo is deliberately not a live band, but a pure studio project, he managed to create atmospheres which they alone know the secret.Sort of vintage funfair just foutraque, this album stands out immediately by the sounds from beyond the grave and convoluted phrases that remind turns circa Animal Collective "Sung Tongs" (on "Castles in the sand" or " Rest Asleep "), Guided by Voices (" Run Run Run ") or the melodies of Balkan Beirut (the very catchy" A ghost of right wing America ").
It is surprising to wonder where does this sound lo-fi in the extreme on "Days of regret" that Daniel Johnston could compose and record on his old 4-tracks from the depths of his room teen. The side pieces of twine disc reflects on the end ( "The faces in the window") and the atmosphere is everything at once claustrophobic at will.
The disc ends with the title the more dynamic, "Cow Bell Blues", a sort of punk rustic rejoicing that will leave its place sheets of synth rickety old seeking a truce.
A disc that seems taken from the archives of the afterlife, and this is its charm; great ball decadent and yet timeless anachronistic desire, I sit at open windows refreshed by his poetry and his sensitivity, but also by a sense of mockery that we read between the lines here and there, between hymns and jingles emaciated obsessive.