A wide-eyed, tribal, multi-textured menagerie of a record.
Greg Cochrane 2010-09-20
There really are some weird women out there right now. If it’s not Natasha Khan (aka Bat For Lashes) writing an entire album about her blonde alter-ego inspired by David Lynch’s fascination with transvestites, it’s Fever Ray’s Karin Dreijer Andersson dressing her band like a gang of melted Mrs Doubtfires, and herself like a chess board.
Enter Glasser, otherwise known as Cameron Mesirow. Stylistically not as outrageous as her contemporaries, in the past the LA native has wrestled with sleep paralyses on a nightly basis and, as a child, night terrors where she’d be haunted by foul hallucinations during her waking hours. Which can’t have been much fun, but sure makes for a warped imagination.
Unsurprisingly this, her debut album following last year’s acclaimed EP Apply, doesn’t sound like KT Tunstall. Rather, it’s a wide-eyed, tribal, multi-textured menagerie of a record which conjures the airy serenity of an undiscovered rainforest and thrill of discovery in one soft breath. All very peaceful.
Opener Apply is a languid, snaky, percussive highlight which darts from side to side like Björk on a slalom. Home, T and Plane Temp are all equally as hypnotic, controlling and deep. Glad is almost TV on the Radio-esque with stabs of trumpets and horns. It’s quite a feat considering Mesirow and her laptop edition of GarageBand were, in large, the sole architects of the record. Although by the time you reach track eight of nine, Treasury of We, her consistency in sound does begin to weaken, her gentle weaving of Kate Bush and Lykke Li still grasps the attention.
Apparently, Ring was inspired by the symmetrical order outlined in Homer’s poem Odyssey, the idea that any structure doesn’t necessarily have to abide by a beginning, middle or end. Presumably this is why when succulent-lullaby Clamour completes the cycle you’ll want to return to the start once more.
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