the sandwitches

‘the sandwitches – our toast (empty cellar)’. 

I’ll be honest in saying that this one has in recent days caught us on the blind side, one of those rare releases where you have to really sit down and patiently wait for it to give itself up, that’s not to say it’s a difficult listen rather more it prefers not to put all its party tricks up in the window. A full review is primed for the sandwiches forthcoming long player ‘our toast’ coming at you via empty cellar records (where if I recall rightly early doors limited vinyl variants come adorned upon oxblood coloured vinyl – not that you should need further prods of encouragement) though for now we’ve settled on a brace of cuts from this most becoming set. According to the playlist stats ‘play it again Dick’ has been getting the admiring glances from all who’ve heard thus far, arrested by a delicious lolloping motif this withered beauty hiccups and coos its way upon the genteel purr of a 50’s etched prairie porch recline that’s shadow lined by the gnawing growl of a riff howling twanging opine that could easily have been swamp dragged out of a Lynchian soundtrack, beautifully bruised and very much stalking the kind of crooked paths once the trademark of June Panic. However us being the awkward souls we are have been somewhat smitten by ‘Dead Prudence’ which perfectly encapsulates the freefalling unbounded artistry of this femme trio, much like staring into a gem stone when the sun refracts through it, the deeper you stare the more you become aware of the multi faceted shape shifting structures, much like this demurring gem then for there’s an almost lightly drizzled jazz soul blues detailing emerging from out of the lazy eyed fog seductively smoked in a ghost light shimmer toned sophistication that appears to hang in an airless suspended state back dropped upon a deeply alluring sepia twisted key braid that’s pressed upon an ever deepening emotional intimacy you’ll struggle to hear done with such forlorn tenderness.

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