Throw Me The Statue - Moonbeams (Secretly Canadian)
4/5
By: Liam Manley
Young men can spend a lot of time in their bedrooms; some frantically masturbate, others make great pop records. Not necessarily always made in, rather more for the bedroom, though Bedroom Pop has been around for years, chugging away in 4-track lo-fi bliss, lately things have been changing...
February has already seen the soundtrack for Juno (ostensibly a collection of bedroom royalty) reach no.1 in the US Billboard charts, not to mention a featured track, 'Anyone Else But You' by The Moldy Peaches, play-listed by that paragon of taste Jo Whiley on Radio 1. But while original B-poppers Young Marble Giants have now returned to the bedsit they occupied over 20 years ago, some of its proponents have since moved elsewhere.
So, with Grandaddy calling it a day, Brendon Benson firmly ensconced within The Raconteurs, Magnetic Fields trading in their bittersweet confectionary for Psychocandy, and Bob Pollard going completely batshit mental and releasing five new albums per week, who's left to sit atop the hallowed damp mattress?
On the evidence of TMTS's debut Moonbeams, it's only a matter of time before the work of sole songwriter Scott Reitherman is the soundtrack of choice to nights spent in dimly lit rooms, curled up in a foetal ball, sobbing yourself to sleep.
Over the fifteen tracks here, Reithman manages to evoke every facet of b-pop from its use of fuzzed out, overdriven Casios, tinny beats, spare use of live drums (in case the neighbours complain, perhaps), Bontempis set to bossa nova presets and twinkling glockenspiels, even going so far as to have a picture of himself in his room on the inlay, for Christ's sake (not wanting to labour a point, but the evidence is all too clear, right down to the copy of Dostoyevsky's Brothers Karamazov shown in said photo).
Though sharing a similar sensibility with the Scandinavian contingent (Jens Lekman, Peter Bjorn & John, Pelle Carlberg, Kings Of Convenience, etc.), with whimsical nostalgia and ukuleles high on the agenda, 'Conquering Kids', 'Lolita' (she's 19, so no need to quote from The Book Of Paedogeddon, just yet) and 'Your Girlfriend's Car', thankfully lack the imagery of cable-knit sweaters and NHS eyewear those Aryan semi-eunuchs bring to mind.
Elsewhere, 'Mutinous Dream' appears to be a scrubbed-up Guided By Voices back in the basement, while 'Yucatan Gold' has inflections similar to the homemade RnB of Hot Chip (who aren't quite bedroom, more like weirdos in their nan's attic), and Dave Bazan's Headphones, who's ex-Pedro The Lion collaborator, Casey Foubert, assists Reithman throughout. Another standout, 'Groundswell', with its insistent horns, calls to mind the Fleetwood Mac of B-pop, Broken Social Scene, at their grandstanding brightest.
It's not all perfection, though, as Moonbeams has a tendency to fall flat, particularly when it lacks direction ('Stupid Stones') or the several ideas at hand don't quite result in a cohesive whole ('Old Believer').
Though this level of stylistic restlessness could lead to him being perceived as a dilettante or flagrant copyist, Reithman exudes too much character, warmth and charm to be dismissed so simply. Above all Moonbeams exceeds at capturing and defining the very moment between the end of being drunk and the hangover beginning, articulating a melancholic euphoria through impressionistic sketches of longing and emotional confusion.
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