Some bands – take Sigur Ros, Guns ‘N’ Roses, The Streets – are intrinsically bound to their birthplaces, handcuffed to their geography, like they lick the ground beneath their feet daily just so they don’t forget what it tastes like. Others – Mars Volta, the Magic Numbers, Absentee – sound more like they were just whipped up by the breeze (read electromagnetic intergalactic hurricane for Mars Volta) and gently displaced over international boundaries. Absentee are a London based collective, though like fellow capital-cityfolk Mojave 3 sound like they caught the last geothermal current from a sunkissed American desert settlement where they spent daylight hours melting through melodious weaves and shimmering mirages, and the twilight smoking tumbleweed and turning tipsy in the gas-lit shadows. London must be a comedown.
There is a lot to be said for owning a devastating baritone, one that’s as natural and psychological as it is the result of physical indulgence, and lead-Absentee Dan Michaelson is proudly sporting one of those. It’s part Lou Reed, part Burt Reynolds, part Tom Waits on downers, part Werthers Originals brandishing grandfather, part vat of roasted chestnuts and the scent of rough tobacco. Mmmm. Yeah? And the way he spills this thick vocal brew with a twist of nonchalant humour over lazy guitars and warm melodies is masterful and gently invigorating. It reminds most immediately of The National’s recent brilliance, this mini album feeling like an out-of-town sibling’s response to their ‘Cherry Tree’ equivalent.
There’s a fair bit of Grandaddy going on here, a smattering of Smog, further husky voiced harmonies (give a couple of octaves) courtesy of perhaps one of the Throwing Muses girls, if this were a band being put together in your head. ‘Something To Bang’ is the most violent sounding title and fittingly the most rampant, twirling unhindered with perforated distortion, sounding a little like the former’s ‘The Crystal Lake’ powered by an audible generator. ‘My Dead Wife’ is more to the point of what you should expect here, lilting instrumentation, lilting pace, gravelly sarcasm, but is made all the more extraordinary by morphing into a heroic slowcore version of ‘You’re The One That I Want’ from ‘Grease’. It’s almost enough to have us running for the girlfriend’s video collection with a lighter to warp the video tape.
All in all like floating on a magic carpet. Quite wonderful.