the fiction aisle

Been most taken with the Fiction Aisle’s full length ‘heart map rubric’ since it appeared on our radar late last night that at one stage we were absent minded of our need for sleep in order for us get by the depressing slog of 9 to 5 boredom of paid work . being impish souls that we were we parked our earlobes upon the parting ‘soon enough the morning comes’ and soon found ourselves smitten by the winter glow of a svelte 60’s symphonic softness we’d really heard executed better outside of a platter bearing the name Ooberman upon its hide. To the feint daubing of dissolving psych pastorals this ghostly dream coat temptingly weaves woozily amid a sonic back lot peppered by forgotten echoes of oddfellows casino, mirror mirror, Ashley parks and van dyke parks and just when you think you have the measure of its deceptive delicacy in come the brass inclines to have your heart at near stopping in swoon filled delight. The Fiction Aisle, in case you are unaware, is the handiwork of one time Electric Soft Parade and Brakes man Thomas White who with ‘heart map rubric’ has captured a moment of alluring English lysergia wrapped in poetic beauty that flirts and flickers to a mellowing introspection not least as evidence on the sepia stoked drifting elegance of ‘fears’ as it dizzily smokes with an almost lights lowered the crowd gone jazz cool. Somewhere else ‘magic seventh’ has had us similarly in a tail spin radiantly riding a vintage sound wave that had us here imagining a made in heaven three way gathering between Stereolab, Free Design and Le Mans headed up by Bacharach and David. Alas no sound clips just yet but rest assured we are working on their press folk.    

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