TRUMANS WATER – O ZETA
ZUNIS (ASTHMATIC KITTY RECORDS)
I’ve lost count. Is this the thirteenth Trumans Water studio
album? Longevity is both a skill and a
curse.
Warped and wrapped
around the angular there is nothing simple about this band. Indeed even removing the record from the shrink-wrapped
sleeve is awkward. However once freed
from slumber the packaging reveals a most excellent and satisfying twelve
inches of prime blue vinyl. There is no
MP3 download code just pure analogue joy.
Typically in playing
with the band’s sensibilities the sides are entitled “Zeta” and “Zunis”. Convention is for wimps and the soft ones.
Housing fourteen
tracks (seven on each side), the good ship Trumans Water still sails the high
seas of lo-fi with persistent waves of drunken gestures driving more by
determination and desire than resource.
In a polished era of digital organisms reducing the workload of man,
there is something hugely reassuring and calming in hearing an object such as
this.
The sound is clear and
familiar. It is early Pavement through
and through. At one point they were
probably on an equal footing/standing but one act decided to refine, some might
say mature, their sound whereas the other decided where they were was more than
enough.
The artwork looks like
some kind of Monty Python collage. On
the front two bears are fishing the stream of a small waterfall while below
them a giant hand is grabbing a human body with a frog head attached as the
whole scene is bedded by a line of serious cyclists. In other words the cover looks just how the
record sounds. Its cut and paste, an
efficient execution of scraps. Why
bother with typeface when you can just write the band name and song titles in
felt tip using a steady hand. Then as
you go in search of information and a tracklisting on the back you find
yourself faced with three polar bears staring you out. Dear listener, you are not to blame.
A mutual appreciation
of fuzz and distortion goes a long way as the Zunis side opens in lurching
fashion akin to wading through treacle.
The sound is that of being trapped in a vortex.
There is clear
contrast in the material of the two sides of the record. The first feels somewhat more “coherent” with
at least song structures harnessing roaming and overdriven gestures. The vocals feel a cloudy stream of
consciousness more designed to stalk the music than vice versa. The tail (tale) is wagging the dog on this
adventure.
Occasionally it
accomplishes pop gestures such as the hook happy “Last Time” but aside from
that frequent stops and time changes seldom offers a smooth ride or fluid
exchange. However by the end of the side
the screaming over distorted has become all encompassing and tough to take in. It’s scratchy to a fault.
As the second side
motions in mechanical fashion with an almost prog work out in “” Hands 4 Eyes”
the exploration is lax and meandering offering an almost mini rock opera
feel. Here is Zappa, here is Beefheart,
here is the culmination of a huge history serving indie rock. There will always be something exhilarating
about a band building to a hook then once it is served they scream and shout in
the style of a rollercoaster going over a cliff. “We Fish” I
am looking at you.
If only more guitars
were still played in this fashion today.
To surmise Trumans
Water remains a wonderful, it’s a just a little too much of it is likely to see
the listener drown as they eventually get out of their depth.
We’re gonna need a
bigger boat.
Thesaurus moment:
soak.
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