|Due out August 8th, 2013|
Hazel Motes 1 & 2 start the album off with sampled chatter from some ethereal scene of normalcy; guitar drones build the songs into aural waves, up until about the 3 min. mark in HM2, at which point St. Aubin's drums and Gordon's bass settle into a groove that pushes the epic along in a manner reminiscent of Can or later era Sonic Youth. Rifkin and Seretan's guitars sail overhead, then decrescendo back to about where the first track took off.
Be Still, Be Silent is bass driven and absent of percussion. The track reminds me of something off of Astral Weeks, and overall, I think WOTWMTW is on a similar wavelength. You can question the accessibility of an album that doesn't jump out with an uptempo single, OR resign itself to atmospheric background music. I don't know if I consider it a fault that this album requires a deeper listen; it's just a rarity these days. However, if you're looking for a single, Home Alone 2: Lost In New York is it. The catchiest vocal hook on the album spearheads a song where 60's jangle guitars give way to 80's, almost Smiths-esque shimmering arpeggios, then to indie guitar squeal, then back for a chorus... and end scene.
Borrowing Body, is a minor key ballad with a 6 feel. St. Aubin's drums shine through on this track. Quick fills between cymbal crashed downbeats mark the first half of the song. After a rest in the middle, the drums re-enter with a kind of awesomely anti-climatic snare roll. That's the best I can describe it. Just listen to it.
Boy King Island comes out with pianos upfront and a simple grove. As guitar heavy as Jane Eyre's sound has been up to this point, it doesn't seem strange or jarring at all when the keys take over the role of the main chordal instrument. Bells Bells Bells fades in from a loud manic solo, to some tape noise, then a slow, jagged vocal serenade. About midway through the track, we get one more chance to rock, before the album decays into tape loop nothingness.
|The band in the heat of battle.|
With Our Thoughts We Make The World is worth a listen. Actually, it's worth four. That's about what it took me to catch most of what is going on. This is an album that was made for a time when you sat down in front of a record player and did nothing but listen, (and drink and smoke pot and maybe make out). It's not an album for a 3 min. commodity to soothe your soul on the way from your apartment to the bodega, or to listen to on the train with all the background noise; it's not an album to blast while you pre-game with your buddies, or to put on a jukebox at a bar. It's an album for when you go home, and learn to be alone.
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