Song, by Toad

I’ve been sitting on this album since we came back from Portland. This is another band to whom I was introduced by Matt of Bladen County Records, and very grateful I am too. They were actually playing while we were there, but it would have involved skipping a few too many crucial parts of Pickathon, so we decided against it.

The beautifully laid back indie pop is sufficiently discreet that I found this a very slow album to come to terms with, and had a bad habit of only paying attention to a couple of songs before my attention began to drift.  I know this is probably a valid enough criticism just by itself, but I think it’s worth paying a little bit more attention than that because, once you’ve allowed the music to soak in, there is plenty of genuine quality on this record, whatever it may lack in instant impact.

It’s a quintessential West Coast album in many ways, with a sound bordering on folky and a gentle ease to the tempo.  Typical Portland perhaps not – I think I would associate more extravagant musicianship with that city, although that may just be the bands I’ve latched onto. I would also say that the record falters just a little as it draws to a close, perhaps not maintaining that somewhat covert catchiness that makes the first two thirds such an easy pleasure, but that would leave what is supposed to be a positive review too full of criticisms.

I doubt anyone is going to be blown away by this album, but I am really enjoying it.  The first half or so is genuinely superb – breezy and confident pop songs, with a gentle wistfulness that balances melancholy with cautious optimism to perfection.  As debuts go, I’d say this was very promising indeed.

Blind Pilot – One Red Thread
Blind Pilot – Poor Boy

MySpace (buy the album here, too) | More mp3s

Christ it’s been weird watching my website ticking over perfectly happily in my absence. Given that I and only I have held the keys to this site for so long, watching you guys quietly getting on with it in my absence has been oddly eerie.

The best bit, I think it’s safe to say, is that it is clear that even without my instigation you’re still prepared to be a right bunch of bastards to anyone doing anything foolish (like, say, not thinking Newton Faulkner are shit) and that at any random moment threads are still liable to disappear off into some downward spiral of surreal mentalism.

More than anything, I think Dylan has done an amazing job with the writing. It’s been a brilliant combination of old stuff, new stuff and general rambling, with a wonderful balance of worthwhile writing and tongue-in-cheek frivolity. Poor lad’s all knackered now, having burnt just a little too much midnight oil, and found the tracking down of new stuff to be less straightforward than it might have been. I really should have given him a stack of promos to dig through, had I thought about it, but I’ll learn for next time.

So a massive Toadly thanks to Dylan for all his brilliant work keeping the house in order, and just time for one little gripe…

…Bombay? Bombay??? TANQUERAY, my good man, a gentleman drinks Tanqueray. Cleaner, crisper, altogether a superior gin, and the Tanqueray 10 stuff is just lovely as well, but as far as this gin sot is concerned there simply is no better gin. Bombay. Goodness gracious me, what has the world come to.

Here are a couple of things from my inbox, which contained nearly 400 emails on my return.

These lads are really good, and currently working on an album too, which is excellent news.
Inspector Tapehead – Sugar on Your Sheets
This is off the new Shaky Hands album, which is approaching in a month or two. I’m really looking forward to this one.
The Shaky Hands – We Are Young
And here’s a little treat from the stuff I’ve been listening to whilst away:
Blind Pilot – Oviedo
Ratatat – Falcon Jab