Articles

Lyndon Blue

AUTUMN TREES IN THE SUMMER: A REVIEW OF ERASERS' NEW CASSETTE TAPE RELEASE

September 1

As I hopped off the bus, it became clear that recent glimpses of an approaching sunny season had abandoned me. Indeed, the stroll thenceforth to my hobbit-hole was a thoroughly moist one; plump raindrops tickled the street and I cursed the punctures in my shoesoles that allowed a my socks to transform into sopping chamois. When I reached my abode however, a parcel awaited me to assuage my wintery woes. It was, simply put, ‘Summer’ in an envelope. That’s the name of Erasers’ new cassette out on US label Solid Melts, recorded in tandem with their recently released 7” entitled ‘Autumn.’ Never mind the dubious chronology; as I dried myself off, fetched a cup of chamomile and started up the mechanical hiss, whir and churn of the tape deck, it would soon grow obvious that this release was perfectly timed.

Its opening track, ‘Autumn Trees’, is also the closing tune on the aforementioned ‘Autumn’ record. As such it acts as something of a bridge between the two; being a Radiohead nerd I can’t help but recall ‘Morning Bell,’ the shared track between their Kid A and Amnesiac LPs which similarly served to link that conceptually aligned pair of albums. Despite being this release’s most pronounced instance of Erasers’ trademark lean, geometric sound, it retains a breezy, warm, quality. Splashed with a healthy dose of reverb, the result is more earthy than the somewhat clinical aural aesthetic they’ve purveyed previously – a trend set to flourish over the course of this tape. ‘Something That’s Nothing,’ is built around a militaristic drum machine snare pattern, upon which wistful synths meander like fuzzy cloud formations. Rebecca Orchard’s tepid, washed out vocals sit at the fore. Though still essentially sparse, it’s a deeply textured endeavour; mottled sunlight dances around the persistent beat, the 808 snare injecting vitality whilst the rest of the world is fading into a dream. But finally that snare too vanishes, and all we hear is a distant sunset-slush, something detectable but not quite remaining, something that’s nothing.

Click! Following a brief and inevitable intermission, Side B coils into action. ‘Softly Spoken’ begins with an analog saw-hum, the sort that accompanies those test-pattern colour bars at the end of VHS tapes. But the brash tone is quickly and suddenly wrapped up in a blanket of Rupert Thomas’ lush, stratospheric guitar looping, before being joined by a skewed waltz rhythm on the drums. By now, it’s clear that this cassette is one which powerfully chronicles an expansion of Erasers’ sonic palette. This exploratory trait is perhaps most evident on ‘Summers End’ – non-rhythmic atmospherics, warm synth textures that ebb and flow like slow-motion nectar-waves; by far the most ambient and freeform thing I’ve yet heard this outfit produce. One almost wishes this very brief track could be expanded over a whole tape of its own – it would make for brilliant meditation/relaxation music.

Finally, “Warm Air” rises to finish off this fairly brief but rich musical offering. Beautiful backwards chords collide gently with mellow harp-like guitar; vocals remain minimal and reserved, but rather than a strict deadpan monotone, they just sound relaxed, distant, at peace. Eventually a lone, recurring tambourine is added which gives a buoyant pulse to the piece, recalling early Beach House. Sounds halfway between water and rattling wooden trinkets begin to permeate the soundscape and eventually take over in a deeply poignant ending to the tape.

One could be forgiven for expecting an ensemble predicated on the musical ideas of repetition and stasis to evolve little between their first few records. Perpetual change and development, after all, would not seem to be priorities in the realm of mantric drone-pop. Yet here, Erasers have already extended and outdone themselves with a sublime, sumptuous, terse and thoroughly listenable effort, its lushness well complemented by the humble and organic-sounding medium on which it’s presented. Like its titular season, this EP is languid, hazy and cheerful – but edged with the faint melancholy that comes with nostalgia for saltwater, sun-soaked romance, chirping crickets, hammocks and ice-cream. ‘Summer’ is limited to 50 copies, so hop to it: grab the sunscreen and the lilo, dust off the tape deck and pop this baby in it – you’re doing yourself a disservice if you don’t.