Crescent - Little Waves (Fat Cat)
3/5
By: Chris O'Toole
For over a decade, Crescent have been bubbling along amongst the fickle tides of popular music, periodically changing their sound, personnel and direction, not at the whim of the industry, but at their own leisurely pace. Accordingly they have remained one step shy of the limelight, but achieve local celebrity in the fertile but insular Bristol post-rock scene. Incorporating members from other local luminaries, including Movietone and Flying Saucer Attack, the group currently exists as a sextet with lead singer Matt Jones very much at the helm.
Fourteen years since their debut release, 'Now', and four years since the presentation of their last effort, 'By The Roads and the Fields', 'Little Waves' marks a continuation in the bands trajectory toward warm, delicate folk melodies matched with quiet, reflective inflections. Built around the acoustic guitar the album consists of 10 ornate tracks, recorded in locations as diverse as an art house cinema and a forest, but principally in the time honoured bedroom. Although, listening to the record it is not obvious how these varied locations have altered the dynamics of their respective tracks - the sound is somewhat uniform and moribund.
The first track, which shares the name of the album, sets the pace. Slow, intimate strummed guitar builds space for Jones' winding, morose narrative. There is a loose feel to the number, the intricately picked guitar part flowing freely and given character by the human error and 'found sounds' included. 'Hey, September' and 'Geese' repeat the tricks, punting slowly along the river with a picnic basket filled with strawberries and champagne. Surrounding these early tracks is a whisper thin layer of natural noise; birds chirping, grass rustling and waves crashing. There are also no digital effects present on the album, something which adds to the idyllic, pastoral feel of the record.
Elements of Low and The Delgados are also incorporated, if with slightly less dexterity, especially on 'Cup', which has a quite yet triumphant swagger. One further comparison would be with the Clientele. But whilst Alasdair Maclean and co. evoke the spirit and sound of 1960's psychedelic folk Crescent imitate it. Indeed, this is true in a number of ways; for example varying recording locations, nostalgic references to gramophones and improvised clarinet accompanying geese are all integral to the album but don't alter its shape and form. It is as though Crescent have heard of other bands doing such things and are claiming their slice of the action without fully understanding why, filling their record with knowing idiosyncrasies and ironic references but not utilising them in any meaningful sense. The record is not stepped in sepia or the patina of aging as it imagines; it is thoroughly contemporary and made to look aged, like a teabag dragged over a newspaper to make it look decades old.
'Nearly Ready' is reminiscent of Leonard Cohen's 'Bird on A Wire' and whilst continuing the quiet, sombre dignity of the record, it also includes careworn horns to add an additional layer of warm shading to proceedings. 'Come Into The Shade' showcases the skilful web of lyrics that support a great deal of what is interesting about this record and the closing track 'Our River' includes the sounds of a motorway flyover for added authenticity.
The tones throughout are of quiet success in the face of slow decay. There is also a fragility to the record, an acceptance of decline and an unwillingness to fight the inevitable; not in an existential or nihilistic sense, but an attempt to savour life as it passes. Where the album shines it does so faintly in the distance making the listener explore areas otherwise ignored, but largely there is little there to find. 'Small Waves' is a broken down building on the outskirts of town, but instead of becoming rustic, it has succumbed to decay.
Stream five tracks from 'Little Waves' HERE.
Artists in this article: Crescent
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