Women
Public Strain
Vinyl
Genre: Indie Rock
EAN: 0656605370484
Regular price
€29,00
Unit price
per
On their self-titled debut, Women made light of a certain noisy snottiness that, on closer inspection, turned out to be drenched in sly pop melodies.
With "Public Strain," the band embraces a sound that stays true to that reverb-drenched noise, but still allows the pop melodies to bask in the spotlight. In the fall of 2009, Patrick Flegel (vocals/guitar), Matt Flegel (bass/vocals), Chris Reimer (guitar/vocals) and Michael Wallace (drums) went into the studio with a variety of ideas, working around their individual time slots and shifts in the graveyard. Chad Vangaalen is once again responsible for the production, with whose help Women made the effort to record an album in the deepest winter of Canada that sounds timeless.
In the end, the grinding, harsh dissonance appears in smaller, more controlled doses; noise appears as the foundation of the textured, multi-layered songwriting. From the opening bars of "Can't You See," it's clear that Public Strain is so much more than a continuation of the debut. At times the album is claustrophobic, conjuring waking dreams of sexual torment of the soul and general decay; elsewhere, retro guitars and vocal melodies soar skyward or collapse in mesmerizing arabesques.
With "Public Strain," the band embraces a sound that stays true to that reverb-drenched noise, but still allows the pop melodies to bask in the spotlight. In the fall of 2009, Patrick Flegel (vocals/guitar), Matt Flegel (bass/vocals), Chris Reimer (guitar/vocals) and Michael Wallace (drums) went into the studio with a variety of ideas, working around their individual time slots and shifts in the graveyard. Chad Vangaalen is once again responsible for the production, with whose help Women made the effort to record an album in the deepest winter of Canada that sounds timeless.
In the end, the grinding, harsh dissonance appears in smaller, more controlled doses; noise appears as the foundation of the textured, multi-layered songwriting. From the opening bars of "Can't You See," it's clear that Public Strain is so much more than a continuation of the debut. At times the album is claustrophobic, conjuring waking dreams of sexual torment of the soul and general decay; elsewhere, retro guitars and vocal melodies soar skyward or collapse in mesmerizing arabesques.
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