A Reel to Reel Plays the Sounds of Wolves
I wish shit wasn't so complicated. I wish that at 29 years old I had a little more figured out, or a little more confidence and patience to trust that everything's going to be ok. This, sadly isn't the case, and I end up romanticizing the past, present and future. It's the present, and/or immediate past, that causes the most damage. I think Candy Bars understand this, and in cataloging the sublimley beautiful images of the past they're really commenting on how their lives aren't like that anymore.
While the song starts out a little sentimental, sounding like Norwegian Wood, Candy Bars give it their own signature feel -- the crunched out whispered vocals, the throbbing cello, the pounding compressed drums. The romanticized idea of memory is given that much more urgency as the song climaxes, touching on keystones like parents' first meetings and old photographs.
Candy Bars are two, sometimes three folks from Tampa, Florida. Not the most indie of cities, it's more known for its metal scene than anything else. I guess in this age of the internets I shouldn't be surprised where a band is from anymore, but I still get a little excited when a band isn't from Brooklyn or Portland or Omaha. It reminds me that there are organic scenes out there where people go to open mics and tiny shows and encourage their friends and strangers to make music. Still, I'm the type of asshole who is going to admire Tampa from afar, and take it on faith that it's rad there. Can't be helped, really.
At any rate, this album is by no means new -- having come out last year to relatively high praise from folks like stereogum. Still, it's worth owning, and you can buy it from the kind folks at New Grenada. Highly recommended.