david o’dowda

Might well be the case that these Static updates may stretch to another day, given we’ve unearthed groove by Squalor Fan, Matters, the Home Current and this little returning lovely from David O’Dowda, so all I’m saying is, hang on to your hats because the Matters one, is particularly, wow. In truth, we’ve had a lazy day, the appearance of a yellow thing in the sky had us lubing up with all manner of strange creams and lotions found lurking in the bathroom cabinet, some I suspect might well have been hair removers (and er, how can I put this politely, lady things, to which I have no knowledge), given the small pile of fur warming our feet. Add to that, so chilled and fatigued must we have been, that we proceeded to doze off \, waking up literally just now, confused, in the dark and absolutely frozen to the bone. so back to the important matter, another from the Static sound house, in a vinyl pressing of just 250 copies, as said earlier, a returning gem from David O’Dowda going by the collective title ‘better in the dark’ featuring four very special and eloquent tracks. Operating in an emotionally fragile world, opener ‘wait’ arrives possessed of a silken symmetry that utilises both silence and space as additional instruments, there’s a beautiful considering working away beneath the surface line here, a maturity and mercurial deftly hinting of Hal and Burt colluding with John Barry on some finitely brushed crushing colossal which unto whose palette the delicate trim of rustic hops and the tease of Baroque breezes sumptuously serve to bring forth a certain crash. And while both title track ‘better in the dark’ and ‘cold night’ are both glazed and rubbed with a hymnal faintness and spectral soul seasoning that much recalls the quiet majesty of Low Anthem, it’s the parting ‘Siberik’ whereupon you’ll find O’Dowda at home in his safe space doing what he does best, that being painting pictures with words and sounds expressed daintily here by the cascading spring heeled riff ripples and the rustic dappling of cosy lollops an a willowy warmth, which for a passing second, had us imagining a woodland gathering of Tunng and Shady Bard types.


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