Low Company save some of the best for near-last with Yuta Matsumura’s longing late night chamber dream sequence RIYL Eno, Flaming Tunes, Lifetones, Thomas Bush, Closer Musik.
A change of plan for Matsumura following his much scuzzier 2019 tape, the more finely crafted ‘Red Ribbon’ subtly gets under the skin with precise, baroque harmonised vocals and smoky ambient texturing that just begs to be heard under low light settings and your own company. His musical heritage lies in Sydney hardcore bands such as Oily Boys, but one would hardly guess from the sensitive nuance of his new batch of songs, which ditch guitars for dubby drum machines and synths and rely on a much stealthier, poetic strategy to worm their way into a psychedelic subconscious, all in the spirit of original and contemporary post-punks who grew up and switched out aggro and primitivism for more melodic, adult pop sophistication and enduring intimacy.
Album starter ‘Box Garden’ opens the gates to a fantasy sound perfumed with intoxicating ambient scents and fragrant baroque harmony unmistakably owing to the Camberwell sound, setting the tone for an album gently guided by its senses and underlined by insistent dry machine pulses from the fluorescent purple hues and drizzle of ‘Tangled Orchid’ to balmy after-the-rain stroll of ‘Myth Machine’ and a pearlescent centrepiece echoing Japanese city pop styles in ‘Soko No Ato - a duet with Haruka Sato. The more reserved ‘Tabla Rasa’ strips it back to dubber, more etheric fundamentals, where a clammier thread of dread infects the Wendy Carlos-esque ‘E. Potential’, and the vocals curiously counter the trickling marimba line and quizzical harmonies of ‘No Sleep For Birds’, lending a bittersweet edge that saves the album from being smug and snug in its prettiness.
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Low Company save some of the best for near-last with Yuta Matsumura’s longing late night chamber dream sequence RIYL Eno, Flaming Tunes, Lifetones, Thomas Bush, Closer Musik.
A change of plan for Matsumura following his much scuzzier 2019 tape, the more finely crafted ‘Red Ribbon’ subtly gets under the skin with precise, baroque harmonised vocals and smoky ambient texturing that just begs to be heard under low light settings and your own company. His musical heritage lies in Sydney hardcore bands such as Oily Boys, but one would hardly guess from the sensitive nuance of his new batch of songs, which ditch guitars for dubby drum machines and synths and rely on a much stealthier, poetic strategy to worm their way into a psychedelic subconscious, all in the spirit of original and contemporary post-punks who grew up and switched out aggro and primitivism for more melodic, adult pop sophistication and enduring intimacy.
Album starter ‘Box Garden’ opens the gates to a fantasy sound perfumed with intoxicating ambient scents and fragrant baroque harmony unmistakably owing to the Camberwell sound, setting the tone for an album gently guided by its senses and underlined by insistent dry machine pulses from the fluorescent purple hues and drizzle of ‘Tangled Orchid’ to balmy after-the-rain stroll of ‘Myth Machine’ and a pearlescent centrepiece echoing Japanese city pop styles in ‘Soko No Ato - a duet with Haruka Sato. The more reserved ‘Tabla Rasa’ strips it back to dubber, more etheric fundamentals, where a clammier thread of dread infects the Wendy Carlos-esque ‘E. Potential’, and the vocals curiously counter the trickling marimba line and quizzical harmonies of ‘No Sleep For Birds’, lending a bittersweet edge that saves the album from being smug and snug in its prettiness.
Low Company save some of the best for near-last with Yuta Matsumura’s longing late night chamber dream sequence RIYL Eno, Flaming Tunes, Lifetones, Thomas Bush, Closer Musik.
A change of plan for Matsumura following his much scuzzier 2019 tape, the more finely crafted ‘Red Ribbon’ subtly gets under the skin with precise, baroque harmonised vocals and smoky ambient texturing that just begs to be heard under low light settings and your own company. His musical heritage lies in Sydney hardcore bands such as Oily Boys, but one would hardly guess from the sensitive nuance of his new batch of songs, which ditch guitars for dubby drum machines and synths and rely on a much stealthier, poetic strategy to worm their way into a psychedelic subconscious, all in the spirit of original and contemporary post-punks who grew up and switched out aggro and primitivism for more melodic, adult pop sophistication and enduring intimacy.
Album starter ‘Box Garden’ opens the gates to a fantasy sound perfumed with intoxicating ambient scents and fragrant baroque harmony unmistakably owing to the Camberwell sound, setting the tone for an album gently guided by its senses and underlined by insistent dry machine pulses from the fluorescent purple hues and drizzle of ‘Tangled Orchid’ to balmy after-the-rain stroll of ‘Myth Machine’ and a pearlescent centrepiece echoing Japanese city pop styles in ‘Soko No Ato - a duet with Haruka Sato. The more reserved ‘Tabla Rasa’ strips it back to dubber, more etheric fundamentals, where a clammier thread of dread infects the Wendy Carlos-esque ‘E. Potential’, and the vocals curiously counter the trickling marimba line and quizzical harmonies of ‘No Sleep For Birds’, lending a bittersweet edge that saves the album from being smug and snug in its prettiness.
Low Company save some of the best for near-last with Yuta Matsumura’s longing late night chamber dream sequence RIYL Eno, Flaming Tunes, Lifetones, Thomas Bush, Closer Musik.
A change of plan for Matsumura following his much scuzzier 2019 tape, the more finely crafted ‘Red Ribbon’ subtly gets under the skin with precise, baroque harmonised vocals and smoky ambient texturing that just begs to be heard under low light settings and your own company. His musical heritage lies in Sydney hardcore bands such as Oily Boys, but one would hardly guess from the sensitive nuance of his new batch of songs, which ditch guitars for dubby drum machines and synths and rely on a much stealthier, poetic strategy to worm their way into a psychedelic subconscious, all in the spirit of original and contemporary post-punks who grew up and switched out aggro and primitivism for more melodic, adult pop sophistication and enduring intimacy.
Album starter ‘Box Garden’ opens the gates to a fantasy sound perfumed with intoxicating ambient scents and fragrant baroque harmony unmistakably owing to the Camberwell sound, setting the tone for an album gently guided by its senses and underlined by insistent dry machine pulses from the fluorescent purple hues and drizzle of ‘Tangled Orchid’ to balmy after-the-rain stroll of ‘Myth Machine’ and a pearlescent centrepiece echoing Japanese city pop styles in ‘Soko No Ato - a duet with Haruka Sato. The more reserved ‘Tabla Rasa’ strips it back to dubber, more etheric fundamentals, where a clammier thread of dread infects the Wendy Carlos-esque ‘E. Potential’, and the vocals curiously counter the trickling marimba line and quizzical harmonies of ‘No Sleep For Birds’, lending a bittersweet edge that saves the album from being smug and snug in its prettiness.