| The single-minded
pursuit of bliss and sadness via slow pop continues
on the Radar Brothers' And the Surrounding Mountains.
Deliberate pacing has been both the band's calling card
and their detractors' main complaint, but the uniformity
of tempo that lends the songs sameness also allows them
to blossom. Each detail appears like a revelation and
helps build to a larger picture: the buried keyboard
line that provides counterpoint to a guitar lead on
"Uncles," the syrup-thick harmonies of "On the Line,"
the way frontman Jim Putnam's voice cracks ever so slightly
on "This Xmas Eve." These moments are rendered in a
lush atmosphere in which even the acoustic strums sound
gilded. The songs themselves are guilelessly organic,
sounding effortless but never lazy, as if plucked from
the air.
There are obvious touchstones for the Radar Brothers'
style, a folk-rock foundation augmented with spacey
touches and hints of country. But when some of the
biggest hooks on the record support quasi-archaic
sentiments like "give us a day's work and we will
grant passage to you" ("Rock of the Lake") and "you
are still evil/In my sword you'll be caught" ("Still
Evil"), it's clear that the group is largely working
in a field of one.
While not quite a concept album, Mountains has
a clear unity of theme. Beneath the placid surface
of rustic imagery and thoughts of family, the album's
pointillist fairy tales hold an undercurrent of danger,
both physical (drownings, death at childbirth) and
psychological (devils and abandonments) from which
companionship and trust hold the only chance for safety.
Listeners are led on a sublime trip of unsettling
mystery and widescreen beauty without bombast, from
the opening welcome of "light the candles once again"
through the crescendo of the penultimate "Mountains"
to the closing promise of "when the morning comes/All
demons will be gone."
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