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Helms, "McCarthy"
Kimchee
While grand flourishes and touches of color may capture your eye, asolid foundation is key to making everything work together. Subtle,almost unseen nuances set the scene for everything built upon it. Thekey is finding the right balance, to not be so subtle as to beunnoticed. On Helms' latest release, McCarthy, the band delves into those latent shades, at times almost getting lost, in order to describe themselves in a different way. McCarthyseems to evoke the moments between sleep and waking, when the conscioushasn't fully kicked in and the unconscious hasn't fully departed.Thoughts and images appear and at once evaporate, failing to make adistinct impression, only leaving a faint trace behind. Much of McCarthyevokes this ephemeral nature, each song almost blurring with the next."Singer and guitarist Sean McCarthy spills out his lyrics in a languid,sleepy manner never fully rising above the midtempo drone of bassistTina Helms and drummer Dan McCarthy. McCarthy seems to aspireto twilight, the arrangements blinking like stars peaking throughfading sunlight, establishing a melody or a riff and then shifting itup and down, back and forth, as on "It Takes Skin to Win." While thistechnique works for Helms as on the aforementioned track, it can attimes become tedious. Helms is most successful when they lurch out oftheir grogginess as on the soaring opener track, "The Hypochondriac'sLast Words," which allows vocalist Sean to show some dynamics in hisvoice. Deviations are welcome, and when "The Ten Thousand Things"arrives, it's not a moment too soon. The rhythm section chugging alongsolidly, punctuated by a thrusting crescendo of guitar that stands outagainst the albums shy demeanor. "Robots Are Great, But Are We ReadyFor Them to Dance on Their Own?" succeeds in building a compelling ideawith only a simple repeated riff, imbued with urgency and energy. Thealbum closes with the unfortunate "Cornish, New Hampshire," dragging onwith a meandering recitation of items in a drawer, daring the listenerto endure the song's seven minute duration. Despite their individualissues, the songs on McCarthy work well together to create astarry, midnight blue atmosphere that makes the album a pleasantlisten. The concern is not on specifics, but on a broader,impressionistic expression of sense and feeling. While the thoughts maydisappear as soon as we open our eyes, the feelings stay with us, thevague memories of sensation that merely hint and never tell.
While grand flourishes and touches of color may capture your eye, asolid foundation is key to making everything work together. Subtle,almost unseen nuances set the scene for everything built upon it. Thekey is finding the right balance, to not be so subtle as to beunnoticed. On Helms' latest release, McCarthy, the band delves into those latent shades, at times almost getting lost, in order to describe themselves in a different way. McCarthyseems to evoke the moments between sleep and waking, when the conscioushasn't fully kicked in and the unconscious hasn't fully departed.Thoughts and images appear and at once evaporate, failing to make adistinct impression, only leaving a faint trace behind. Much of McCarthyevokes this ephemeral nature, each song almost blurring with the next."Singer and guitarist Sean McCarthy spills out his lyrics in a languid,sleepy manner never fully rising above the midtempo drone of bassistTina Helms and drummer Dan McCarthy. McCarthy seems to aspireto twilight, the arrangements blinking like stars peaking throughfading sunlight, establishing a melody or a riff and then shifting itup and down, back and forth, as on "It Takes Skin to Win." While thistechnique works for Helms as on the aforementioned track, it can attimes become tedious. Helms is most successful when they lurch out oftheir grogginess as on the soaring opener track, "The Hypochondriac'sLast Words," which allows vocalist Sean to show some dynamics in hisvoice. Deviations are welcome, and when "The Ten Thousand Things"arrives, it's not a moment too soon. The rhythm section chugging alongsolidly, punctuated by a thrusting crescendo of guitar that stands outagainst the albums shy demeanor. "Robots Are Great, But Are We ReadyFor Them to Dance on Their Own?" succeeds in building a compelling ideawith only a simple repeated riff, imbued with urgency and energy. Thealbum closes with the unfortunate "Cornish, New Hampshire," dragging onwith a meandering recitation of items in a drawer, daring the listenerto endure the song's seven minute duration. Despite their individualissues, the songs on McCarthy work well together to create astarry, midnight blue atmosphere that makes the album a pleasantlisten. The concern is not on specifics, but on a broader,impressionistic expression of sense and feeling. While the thoughts maydisappear as soon as we open our eyes, the feelings stay with us, thevague memories of sensation that merely hint and never tell.
