Saturday, November 7, 2009


Indie rock is still way deader than punk is, people. But Holopaw's Oh, Glory. Oh, Wilderness. makes me feel beautiful. The pretty album art is remarkable for the way it reflects the sound of the album. The pale, soft colors and fluid lines reflect the pale, soft sounds and fluid melodies you get when you press play. It's a wet, gray day here so I'm letting myself melt into the sound, which is definitely water soluble. Or maybe it just makes me feel water soluble.

There's also something really persuasive about John Orth's fluttering but controlled voice. I'm focusing in on that and I can tell there is a lot of storytelling and stuff going on in the lyrics but, yet again, I can't make out a word of it on the album so I'm regarding the lovely "songbook" it came with as an added but unrelated bonus. Albeit, a bonus that contains such highly suspect phrases as "the gloaming". Or I'm just getting crotchety here in my late twenties.

Even though not a note of it is false or even predictable, and even though the album as a whole is haunting and full of mystery, I may not put this on again for a minute. It's a little too soft rock/AC for me to take on an average day. But I'll be glad it's there when the time comes. It is a very finely made album and I have a feeling there is just enough enchantment in it to stave off a panic attack or keep me still next time I'm sick in bed. And they still whoop that Bon Iver dude.

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