No Hits 6.13.05
Sometimes you know exactly why you like a song—it fits some stupid formula you love (tight, melodic pop-punk, for example) or it evokes some memory. Other times, the reason’s elusive. You like a song despite the fact that it seems to go against all you hold true and dear. Such is Grey Snake, a song that winds, and twists and meanders (goddammit--I hate meandering!) and sounds like something from Chicago’s mid-90s post-rock scene (not my favorite sound).
If nothing else, it reminds me of The Sea and Cake, a band I briefly flirted with (though almost getting beaten up by a psycho fan at a S&C show froze the bloom off that rose rather quickly). Not coincidentally, Sea and Cake members, including Archer Prewitt (who I still really like) played on Palaxy Tracks’ last album. Also not coincidentally, Palaxy Tracks relocated from Austin to Chicago a few years ago. Sounds like they’ve been here forever.
Listen to this track for the amazing point where it comes to an almost complete standstill, with only the drum and bass mimicking a barely beating heart. And far in the background—the eerie scratch of whispers. Ghosts? Family members prematurely plotting the funeral? Whatever. It’s outstanding atmospherics. From recent release Twelve Rooms.
Bonus from The Sea and Cake’s The Biz:
And related: Top 10 Songs of the Mid-1990s Chicago Rock Scene.
posted by Amy at 7:37 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
It wasn't actually Archer Prewitt that played on the album, but one of his band's members, Max Crawford, who is also a member of The Sea and Cake's touring band (but not a recording member). He played on both Cedarland and Twelve Rooms.
I stand corrected.
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