samples:
mÚm, "summer make good"
FatCat
The howling winds which open MíQ's third full-length record are ominously foreshadowing of what lies within. The group, now down to a core trio, have moved even further away from their first releases of pretty prancing techno fairies sprinkling happy dust over the morning dew, delving into deeper exploration of a more sad beauty that doesn't come without a sting. It's like admiring the beauty of the blue sky and bright sunlight after drowning, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The first real song, for example, even aches of sadness with the title alone, "Weeping Rock, Rock," and with an arsenal of instruments, the sound swells to a thick heaviness the group only let bleed through occasionally on 2002's Finally We Are No One. In the studio this time are live drums and percussion, guitar and banjo, mandolin, accordion, organ, horns, strings, and plenty of unidentifiable objects while the digital glitchery has been reduced to a bare minimum, used only ever subtly for effect. Taking center stage is the even more matured, bold choices the group is taking with song structure and production. Whispery vocals are brought to the foreground, allowing for every imperfection to be audible. Imperfection is, after all, what makes humans distinct from each other. The album's first single, "Nightly Cares," should be an indication for those lucky enough to find it, as it moves slowly, with doubled vocals and airbrushed drums and a muted trumpet that reminds me Mark Hollis is overdue for a second solo album. Fans of the first releases should be warned: MíQ have created a record which is almost completely void of predictable pop ditties that make for crossover radio hits, despite vocals appearing on nearly every song. Perhaps the group has taken some influence from the uprising in bands to challenge the almighty pop structure. Unlike a lot of their contemporaries, MíQ have effectively balanced that stretch for originality with a listen that's equally as captivating. Often times, things seem almost alien in nature, with bleak reality distortions that could even give Matt Elliott the shivers. MíQ have succeeded in making an album that's very shy at first, unassuming and timid. But, with a growing curiosity and openness from the listener, bit by bit, more gets revealed, and I'm still learning. Those who appreciate a nice package might want to hold off this week as some limited edition version in a book is due out but delayed due to manufacturing issues of some kind. - Jon Whitney
samples: