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m√öm, "summer make good"
FatCat
The howling winds which open MíQ's third full-length record areominously foreshadowing of what lies within. The group, now down to acore trio, have moved even further away from their first releases ofpretty prancing techno fairies sprinkling happy dust over the morningdew, delving into deeper exploration of a more sad beauty that doesn'tcome without a sting. It's like admiring the beauty of the blue sky andbright sunlight after drowning, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Thefirst real song, for example, even aches of sadness with the titlealone, "Weeping Rock, Rock," and with an arsenal of instruments, thesound swells to a thick heaviness the group only let bleed throughoccasionally on 2002's Finally We Are No One.In the studio this time are live drums and percussion, guitar andbanjo, mandolin, accordion, organ, horns, strings, and plenty ofunidentifiable objects while the digital glitchery has been reduced toa bare minimum, used only ever subtly for effect. Taking center stageis the even more matured, bold choices the group is taking with songstructure and production. Whispery vocals are brought to theforeground, allowing for every imperfection to be audible. Imperfection is, after all, what makes humans distinct from each other.The album's first single, "Nightly Cares," should be an indication forthose lucky enough to find it, as it moves slowly, with doubled vocalsand airbrushed drums and a muted trumpet that reminds me Mark Hollis isoverdue for a second solo album. Fans of the first releases should bewarned: MíQ have created a record which is almost completely void ofpredictable pop ditties that make for crossover radio hits, despitevocals appearing on nearly every song. Perhaps the group has taken someinfluence from the uprising in bands to challenge the almighty popstructure. Unlike a lot of their contemporaries, MíQ have effectivelybalanced that stretch for originality with a listen that's equally ascaptivating. Often times, things seem almost alien in nature, withbleak reality distortions that could even give Matt Elliott theshivers. MíQ have succeeded in making an album that's very shy atfirst, unassuming and timid. But, with a growing curiosity and opennessfrom the listener, bit by bit, more gets revealed, and I'm stilllearning. Those who appreciate a nice package might want to hold offthis week as some limited edition version in a book is due out butdelayed due to manufacturing issues of some kind
The howling winds which open MíQ's third full-length record areominously foreshadowing of what lies within. The group, now down to acore trio, have moved even further away from their first releases ofpretty prancing techno fairies sprinkling happy dust over the morningdew, delving into deeper exploration of a more sad beauty that doesn'tcome without a sting. It's like admiring the beauty of the blue sky andbright sunlight after drowning, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Thefirst real song, for example, even aches of sadness with the titlealone, "Weeping Rock, Rock," and with an arsenal of instruments, thesound swells to a thick heaviness the group only let bleed throughoccasionally on 2002's Finally We Are No One.In the studio this time are live drums and percussion, guitar andbanjo, mandolin, accordion, organ, horns, strings, and plenty ofunidentifiable objects while the digital glitchery has been reduced toa bare minimum, used only ever subtly for effect. Taking center stageis the even more matured, bold choices the group is taking with songstructure and production. Whispery vocals are brought to theforeground, allowing for every imperfection to be audible. Imperfection is, after all, what makes humans distinct from each other.The album's first single, "Nightly Cares," should be an indication forthose lucky enough to find it, as it moves slowly, with doubled vocalsand airbrushed drums and a muted trumpet that reminds me Mark Hollis isoverdue for a second solo album. Fans of the first releases should bewarned: MíQ have created a record which is almost completely void ofpredictable pop ditties that make for crossover radio hits, despitevocals appearing on nearly every song. Perhaps the group has taken someinfluence from the uprising in bands to challenge the almighty popstructure. Unlike a lot of their contemporaries, MíQ have effectivelybalanced that stretch for originality with a listen that's equally ascaptivating. Often times, things seem almost alien in nature, withbleak reality distortions that could even give Matt Elliott theshivers. MíQ have succeeded in making an album that's very shy atfirst, unassuming and timid. But, with a growing curiosity and opennessfrom the listener, bit by bit, more gets revealed, and I'm stilllearning. Those who appreciate a nice package might want to hold offthis week as some limited edition version in a book is due out butdelayed due to manufacturing issues of some kind
