armellodie records 2014 sampler

More mix tape sampler set madness this time from the Armellodie imprint, a seventeen track window shopping guide to the essential grooves tripping out of this much touted and critically acclaimed label. Now we must admit that apologies are due to these dudes – we’ve just spied at least two releases of theirs that haplessly got lost in the pre seasonal pile up so as recompense we’ll rifle through this nifty gathering pulling out the essential listening moments – and there are plenty of those I can tell you. In short a 17 track window shopping peruse of the finest shots of indie pop in record world, the account opening with pure conjecture’s sweetly sleepy exotica pop ’I just want you to love me’ which comes blessed in the same kind of hazy seafaring idyllic south pacific sway that graced platters by J Xaverre and Toshack Highway in years long past. Altogether proving to be a differing beast is the razor sharp gruff grizzled assault of the Galoshins whose ’bleeps’ kicks out like some manic garage gnarled secret meeting of a ’beasts’ era Sex Gang Children and the Sinatras with a healthy side serving of the Fire Engines. Surely the pride of the Armellodie pack the warping and wired Saint Max and the Fanatics who in an early missive blew us away with this track, ’afraid of love’ shudders and shimmers like a prime time Buzzcockian rumble audaciously switching step from moments of Violent Femmes like smokiness to razor like dementia at the blink of an eye. I’m certain we’ve had an email recently reporting of a full length platter from Appletop, so while we root that out and get waxing lyrically ’Johnny’s theme’ has something of the Faces about its mellowed wares purring as it does to the kind of power pop murmur more associated with Moviola. Those much loving of their sounds fog bound and seemingly brewed in the overhang shade of a quiet mountain side might do well to swoon thoughtfully to the timeless country folk shanty that is thirty pounds of bones’ adorably tranquil ’the ballad of Cootehill’ and do we detect something of a Death Cab for Cutie persona about ’if you would just try a bit harder’ by the Scottish Enlightenment while the progressive math rock axis to which gastric bands ’brad shitt’ sits probably owes as much to Crimson and Henry Cow as it does to Fontanelle. Sticking with intricate fretwork and noodling math gouged art pop groove though here reframed in a pulsing new wave throb kill the captain stump up ’the trial’ a kind of swaggering strut honed XTC. I’m certain that we’ve given up space for the Super Adventure Club in recent times and if we haven’t then we’ll admit a trick has been missed, ‘9 times’ is a hot wired jamboree of scalding riff rupturing pop that draws heavily on the alt prog alignment of the Cardiacs in so much as cutting irregularly acute rhythmic shapes and welding them to a volcanic agit pop meltdown grooving. In sharp contrast Cuddly Shark are a tamer affair by turn ’broken arm’ provides a strangely off kilter experience that sits between casually slacker and porch reclined as though birthed out of drinking session between the soft parade and a young pavement. Conor Mason breezes in with ’a picture of farewell’ all gorgeously inscribed with a curious though deeply alluring melancholic etching which had us in mind of a weepy and introspective J Xaverre getting a sympathetic arm around the shoulder from Another Sunny Day. One of the collections high lights comes in the shape something beginning with l whose ’younger thoughts’ shimmers bruisingly to a most beautiful Brontean canter that surrendered and sleepily sighed in the kind of arresting ache that occasionally troubled the tender tones of Derrero. As you’d rightly imagine from a title like ’a military farewell’, the douglas firs do indeed turn in a celebrated campfire cutie though what you probably weren’t expecting was the faded regale of ’glory glory Hallelujah’ drifting through the gun smoke haze and sumptuously graced in a warming hymnal vibe. In a similar vein you’d be forgiven for thinking that Le Reno Amps hailed from the deep south Americas for their impeccable grasp of old school Americana is simply exquisite, they in fact hail from Scotland and ’north and south’ is a smoking slab of prairie pop. Am I the only person ho thinks the start of ’tell the girl’ kicks in like a new wave Elvis Costello chart hit of the late 70’s – my money’s on ’radio radio’ – that said its Costello aided and abetted by the Rezillos – anyway whatever the case this babe comes from the excellently named Chris Devotion and the Expectations a rumbling strut gouged slab of frenzied power popping beat grooved hysteria – and damn fine at that. Those among you of weak and frail disposition will do well to avoid the tortured ache of trapped mice’s ’dance while winter cries’ – despaired, devastated and demurred with a blossoming albeit brief moment of radiance which kicks in at the 3 minute mark and then hastily retreats stage left – admirers of Lupen Crook will warm to this immediately. Rounding up matters and much adored around these here parts, the Hazey Janes shuffle in with the effervescently lolloping autumnal croon of the sprightly and spirited ’the darkness ends’ which we must admit had us here a tad fondly recalling of the World Party albeit shimmying the night away with an upbeat and cheer some Go Betweens. All said an essential free to download party pack.

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