The Beatles refashioned the overreaching falsettos of Roy Orbinson, the rainbow harmonies of the Everly Brothers and the shuffling jiggery-pokery of Buddy Holly and left an indelible mark on history as the four feted pioneers of modern pop. Bloomington Indiana trio The Post evoke the spiralling misanthropy and climactic primal therapy of ‘OK Computer’ and they’re dismissed as copyists. History is a difficult beast to tame and the pen of the critic often presses down upon history like the wiry old gramaphone needle presses down on the groove of the vinyl: seldom is it even, and seldom does it record perfectly. Whilst the trainspotters amongst us will take great pleasure in observing all the unashamedly familiar loose time-signatures, the screaming falsettos, the jazzy trash-can drums and the agitated bass patterns of tracks like ‘Where Are The Wolves’, ‘Into The Lifeboats’ and ‘Until We Bring’ but few will notice the wan, grungey tenderness of ‘Difference Engine’, the modest experimentalism of ‘Even Though I Care’ and ‘Until We Bring’ and the infinite possibilities of the curiously pretty ‘Polar’.
The biggest problem is that Mike Bradovsky’s handling of the production has failed to elucidate and match the subtle peculiarities that Oliver Boch and his associates have clearly brought to the sessions. Bradovsky has created a stew from the ingredients bought in for a delicate truffle en croute; it’s ham-fisted to say the least, and the listener has a hard time picking out the clever details of the violin samples and the backward loops. It’s too reverberated and too dimly lit. The uncomfortable truth is that albums like this need a lot more dimes and dollars ploughing in if they’re going to stand even half a chance of being realised. Bradovsky seems to have sat down at the mixing desk, fiddled with a few controls and simply run out of time .
With a little more discipline on both sides of the mixing desk, The Post could slip into a nicely extending niche of Muses, Joy Divsions, Raptures, Voltas and Radioheads out there in indieland. As it is, it’s still mostly conjecture.