Two Syllable Records are, somewhat under the radar, building a really good back catalogue, with releases by bands like Inlets, Candy Claws and, my favourite, That Ghost.

I’ve reviewed Ryan Schmale’s work on this site before, with pretty considerable enthusiasm, and this review isn’t going to be much different.

I’ll agree with the label’s own blurb that this album is more sombre and introspective than what has come before from Schmale.  I think I’ll add that there’s a touch less of a rough edge to it as well.  It still sounds really lo-fi, but there’s definitely something of a more welcoming feel to it than I might have imagined before – it’s even kind of mellifluous at time, which really shocked me.

You know when you speak to someone really introverted and shy and sometimes that shyness causes them to snap at you, and you don’t really know where the hostility has come from?  Well I think there was a bit of that about the earlier That Ghost records, whereas this, for all it retains a lot of the shyness and introspection, seems to have turned it inward as if it no longer blames you for its feeling of isolation.

In some senses I suppose Song Out Here could do with a little of that bite back.  A bit of that attitude, perhaps.  I am not going to whinge too much though, because I am really enjoying this album, just that around half or two-thirds of the way through, once the different sound has been established and allowed to settle, it might have been nice to just give things a little shake, to break the spell.

Nevertheless, this whole album has the feel of being in a cosy cabin in the mountains (I blame fucking Bon Iver for this image popping into my head) where all might not be well, but is nevertheless under control.  There is still the feeling of isolation, still a grey sky, but it is one that is being regarded from the relative comfort of indoors.

That Ghost – To Like You

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That Ghost – The Older Removed by request

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The Treecast is so named because we purchased and decorated our Christmas tree this afternoon.  It is an incoherent mess of all sorts of shite, stupid garish baubles, a weird peacock thingy and some foolish attempts at being tasteful which have been utterly overwhelmed by the utter cack which surrounds them.

My parents always did seriously tasteful trees actually, so I would imagine they will be downright ashamed of the half-arsed mess we have managed to create.  Actually, my dad is the world’s biggest Grinch, so he won’t give a shite, but my mum might be silently disappointed.

Nevertheless it now feels like Christmas has properly started.  We have orded a keg of beer for our Christmas party (our own one, not the label one) and for the New Year’s piss up as well.  We’ll have Jonnie Common, The Japanese War Effort and Neil fae Meursault playing a house gig that evening, and there will, it now appears, be shitloads of very tasty beer too.  Why the fuck would anyone bother with town?

Direct download: Toadcast #151 – The Treecast

01. Grandaddy – Now It’s On (00.21)
02. Jason Lytle – D.U.I. BBQ Checkpoint (07.39)
03. Twilight Hotel – Mahogany Veneer  (12.25)
04. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart – Heart in Your Heartbreak (18.44)
05. Wolf Parade – Semi-precious Stone (22.36)
06. That Ghost – Older (30.17)
07. Grandaddy – Band Synergy (A Peek Inside the Magic) (35.34)
08. Grandaddy – You Know You’re Fucked Up (38.50)
09. Crystal Stilts – Shake the Shackles (43.54)
10. The Monochrome Set – Jetset Junta (Remix) (48.19)
11. Gobble Gobble – Wrinklecarver (51.20)

Rough and raw?  On Song, by Toad?  Never!  And bloody hell this is rough.  I reviewed Ryan Schmale’s previous release late last year, but is rather definitely a different beast.  There remain almost none of the glowering, atmospheric songs of this record’s immediate predecessor, and in their place a near-unrelenting cloud of angrily sneering guitars.

There’s a whiff of old time rock ‘n’ roll at times too, although just the barest hint.  I was reminded of early (really early, as in: when they weren’t just a bit dull) Raveonettes just a little at times, but the association was not a very strong one.  If you imagine Phil & the Osophers as a frat boy pretending to be street, this album feels like the murderous hood he might be imitating.  There’s more than a touch of shoegaze to it at times as well, if you’re looking for pigeonholes, but that could just be the scuzzy guitar.

A bit like the excellent Scotland Yard Gospel Choir song featured earlier this week, these guys have a song starting with an opening line of vitriolic excellence.  “Don’t have to say it but it’s true/ Nobody puts me down like you” but while the former was more literally vicious, this is delivered with such spite that it ends up having way more force.  And it is not funny.

In fact this whole album has the look of that slightly awkward teenager who glowers at you from under his cap and, as you belittle him once again, boils up to such an extent that all the simmering resentment explodes, at which point he steals his father’s shotgun and goes and butchers everyone in the local MacDonald’s.

Maybe that’s because despite the aggression of the sound, the rhythm itself if usually relatively slow and deliberate by comparison, giving it the impression of emotions held in check, but without giving you any confidence that they won’t explode into a whirlwhind at any time.  At any point this album could just lose it and hit you with a furious noise, and even though it never quite does, the threat always seems to be there.

Because I’ve spent a long time absorbing the actual sound of the record, I did take a little time to get a handle on the actual hooks.  These are the catchy, hummable bits which you need somewhere in a song whatever the whatever the overall sound to keep you coming back to a piece of music.  It’s not generously laden with melody of any kind, I have to say, and although that’s probably not the point, I do think it could perhaps do with just a sliver more attention paid to that side of things, because the texture of the guitar sound doesn’t always do quite enough to realise the songs entirely on its own.

That’s a pretty picky point to make though, because for the most part I really like this.

That Ghost – Shouldn’t Leave the Estate

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That Ghost – The Roof

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This album is really, really basic and really, really good. Guitar, drums, bass from time to time, and some bloke singing. Ryan Schmale, who to all intents and purposes is the band has all sorts of self-releases to his name already and, at the grand old age of eighteen, this is his label debut. His first proper full release, I suppose you would call it.

Knowing that, you’d never expect the sounds that issue forth from your speakers on pressing play. This sounds like the work of a veteran indie band to me – you know, members mostly in their thirties, been growling away since listening to the low-fi indie of the early 90s US scene, that sort of thing. It’s part of that line between The Velvets, Pavement, Yo La Tengo, Luna and that kind of thrum-based, basic indie rock. I wouldn’t put him quite at that level yet, obviously, but then it would be a bit harsh to compare an eighteen year old to the major giants of US indie.

A friend of mine is a drummer and refers to his instrument as ‘the pots and pans’, and in this particular case that is almost exactly what they sound like. Add the crackly, distorted guitar and echoey vocals and, well… eighteen, are you sure? There are times when things lag a little. After the terrific Top Shelf there comes a one-two of songs I am not particularly smitten by, and some kind of instrumental variation might be a little welcome here and there just to break things up a little, but in general I would call this an excellent debut. I’ll be interested to see how he develops.

That Ghost – Top Shelf

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That Ghost – A Song About a Bird I Know

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