Bristol's Quade hit a tender note on their sophomore album, burying the Krautrock and post-punk influences to present a folk-flushed response to Talk Talk and Bark Psychosis's hallowed soundscapes.
Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly's first Quade album, 2023's 'Nacre', was a promising blueprint that began to reach beyond the motorik experimentation that characterised 'Spiral', their Can and Neu! influenced debut EP. 'The Foel Tower' advances the concept in almost every way; by capitalising on their love of Bristolian slowcore pioneers Movietone and post-rock instigators Bark Psychosis, their atmospheric vignettes have grown deeper roots.
Describing the album as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock," Quade are hyper-aware of their influences and clear about their intentions, and it pays off. It's a direct, fully-formed set that's well trimmed and impeccably produced; if its predecessor was a collage of moody gestures and scratchy violins that hinted at more than it provided, 'The Foel Tower' is the finished article. It doesn't take long to coalesce, either. Opener 'Beckett' is a quiet storm that's immediately affecting, led at first by Matthews' dubby bassline and vulnerable voice before Connolly's shrill fiddle provides the folk brawn. It's the subtle production that has us floored; everything's got its place, and the relative emptiness is only occasionally blocked by Fini's tidal percussion and Griffiths' restrained synthwork and tape loops.
We can easily make comparisons with Bark Psychosis's flawless debut album 'Hex', but Quade don't sound as if they're simply paying tribute. Their attention to detail, especially on the production side, falls in line with Graham Sutton's enduring sonic philosophy - just peep 'See Unit', that jolts from near silence to deafening noise with eddying drums and jagged riffs that clear like grey clouds to reveal sunny, celestial harmonies in the third act. Even when they swap out the acoustic instruments for synths on 'Nannerth Ganol', Quaid's lucid vision maintains the album's coherence. Trace guitars fuzz in the distance, and neatly sequenced, liquidated cosmic bubbles pop into clouds of sublime ambience - it's ambitious, but never bombastic.
All this makes the transition into 'Canada Geese' even more shocking; opening with almost three minutes of chillingly dry acoustic folk, it's the antithesis of its predecessor and intensifies into a pressurised crescendo that simmers with cinematic tension.
So good - don't sleep on it.
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Bristol's Quade hit a tender note on their sophomore album, burying the Krautrock and post-punk influences to present a folk-flushed response to Talk Talk and Bark Psychosis's hallowed soundscapes.
Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly's first Quade album, 2023's 'Nacre', was a promising blueprint that began to reach beyond the motorik experimentation that characterised 'Spiral', their Can and Neu! influenced debut EP. 'The Foel Tower' advances the concept in almost every way; by capitalising on their love of Bristolian slowcore pioneers Movietone and post-rock instigators Bark Psychosis, their atmospheric vignettes have grown deeper roots.
Describing the album as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock," Quade are hyper-aware of their influences and clear about their intentions, and it pays off. It's a direct, fully-formed set that's well trimmed and impeccably produced; if its predecessor was a collage of moody gestures and scratchy violins that hinted at more than it provided, 'The Foel Tower' is the finished article. It doesn't take long to coalesce, either. Opener 'Beckett' is a quiet storm that's immediately affecting, led at first by Matthews' dubby bassline and vulnerable voice before Connolly's shrill fiddle provides the folk brawn. It's the subtle production that has us floored; everything's got its place, and the relative emptiness is only occasionally blocked by Fini's tidal percussion and Griffiths' restrained synthwork and tape loops.
We can easily make comparisons with Bark Psychosis's flawless debut album 'Hex', but Quade don't sound as if they're simply paying tribute. Their attention to detail, especially on the production side, falls in line with Graham Sutton's enduring sonic philosophy - just peep 'See Unit', that jolts from near silence to deafening noise with eddying drums and jagged riffs that clear like grey clouds to reveal sunny, celestial harmonies in the third act. Even when they swap out the acoustic instruments for synths on 'Nannerth Ganol', Quaid's lucid vision maintains the album's coherence. Trace guitars fuzz in the distance, and neatly sequenced, liquidated cosmic bubbles pop into clouds of sublime ambience - it's ambitious, but never bombastic.
All this makes the transition into 'Canada Geese' even more shocking; opening with almost three minutes of chillingly dry acoustic folk, it's the antithesis of its predecessor and intensifies into a pressurised crescendo that simmers with cinematic tension.
So good - don't sleep on it.
Bristol's Quade hit a tender note on their sophomore album, burying the Krautrock and post-punk influences to present a folk-flushed response to Talk Talk and Bark Psychosis's hallowed soundscapes.
Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly's first Quade album, 2023's 'Nacre', was a promising blueprint that began to reach beyond the motorik experimentation that characterised 'Spiral', their Can and Neu! influenced debut EP. 'The Foel Tower' advances the concept in almost every way; by capitalising on their love of Bristolian slowcore pioneers Movietone and post-rock instigators Bark Psychosis, their atmospheric vignettes have grown deeper roots.
Describing the album as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock," Quade are hyper-aware of their influences and clear about their intentions, and it pays off. It's a direct, fully-formed set that's well trimmed and impeccably produced; if its predecessor was a collage of moody gestures and scratchy violins that hinted at more than it provided, 'The Foel Tower' is the finished article. It doesn't take long to coalesce, either. Opener 'Beckett' is a quiet storm that's immediately affecting, led at first by Matthews' dubby bassline and vulnerable voice before Connolly's shrill fiddle provides the folk brawn. It's the subtle production that has us floored; everything's got its place, and the relative emptiness is only occasionally blocked by Fini's tidal percussion and Griffiths' restrained synthwork and tape loops.
We can easily make comparisons with Bark Psychosis's flawless debut album 'Hex', but Quade don't sound as if they're simply paying tribute. Their attention to detail, especially on the production side, falls in line with Graham Sutton's enduring sonic philosophy - just peep 'See Unit', that jolts from near silence to deafening noise with eddying drums and jagged riffs that clear like grey clouds to reveal sunny, celestial harmonies in the third act. Even when they swap out the acoustic instruments for synths on 'Nannerth Ganol', Quaid's lucid vision maintains the album's coherence. Trace guitars fuzz in the distance, and neatly sequenced, liquidated cosmic bubbles pop into clouds of sublime ambience - it's ambitious, but never bombastic.
All this makes the transition into 'Canada Geese' even more shocking; opening with almost three minutes of chillingly dry acoustic folk, it's the antithesis of its predecessor and intensifies into a pressurised crescendo that simmers with cinematic tension.
So good - don't sleep on it.
Bristol's Quade hit a tender note on their sophomore album, burying the Krautrock and post-punk influences to present a folk-flushed response to Talk Talk and Bark Psychosis's hallowed soundscapes.
Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly's first Quade album, 2023's 'Nacre', was a promising blueprint that began to reach beyond the motorik experimentation that characterised 'Spiral', their Can and Neu! influenced debut EP. 'The Foel Tower' advances the concept in almost every way; by capitalising on their love of Bristolian slowcore pioneers Movietone and post-rock instigators Bark Psychosis, their atmospheric vignettes have grown deeper roots.
Describing the album as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock," Quade are hyper-aware of their influences and clear about their intentions, and it pays off. It's a direct, fully-formed set that's well trimmed and impeccably produced; if its predecessor was a collage of moody gestures and scratchy violins that hinted at more than it provided, 'The Foel Tower' is the finished article. It doesn't take long to coalesce, either. Opener 'Beckett' is a quiet storm that's immediately affecting, led at first by Matthews' dubby bassline and vulnerable voice before Connolly's shrill fiddle provides the folk brawn. It's the subtle production that has us floored; everything's got its place, and the relative emptiness is only occasionally blocked by Fini's tidal percussion and Griffiths' restrained synthwork and tape loops.
We can easily make comparisons with Bark Psychosis's flawless debut album 'Hex', but Quade don't sound as if they're simply paying tribute. Their attention to detail, especially on the production side, falls in line with Graham Sutton's enduring sonic philosophy - just peep 'See Unit', that jolts from near silence to deafening noise with eddying drums and jagged riffs that clear like grey clouds to reveal sunny, celestial harmonies in the third act. Even when they swap out the acoustic instruments for synths on 'Nannerth Ganol', Quaid's lucid vision maintains the album's coherence. Trace guitars fuzz in the distance, and neatly sequenced, liquidated cosmic bubbles pop into clouds of sublime ambience - it's ambitious, but never bombastic.
All this makes the transition into 'Canada Geese' even more shocking; opening with almost three minutes of chillingly dry acoustic folk, it's the antithesis of its predecessor and intensifies into a pressurised crescendo that simmers with cinematic tension.
So good - don't sleep on it.
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Bristol's Quade hit a tender note on their sophomore album, burying the Krautrock and post-punk influences to present a folk-flushed response to Talk Talk and Bark Psychosis's hallowed soundscapes.
Barney Matthews, Leo Fini, Matt Griffiths and Tom Connolly's first Quade album, 2023's 'Nacre', was a promising blueprint that began to reach beyond the motorik experimentation that characterised 'Spiral', their Can and Neu! influenced debut EP. 'The Foel Tower' advances the concept in almost every way; by capitalising on their love of Bristolian slowcore pioneers Movietone and post-rock instigators Bark Psychosis, their atmospheric vignettes have grown deeper roots.
Describing the album as “doomer sad boy, ambient-dub, folk, experimental post-rock," Quade are hyper-aware of their influences and clear about their intentions, and it pays off. It's a direct, fully-formed set that's well trimmed and impeccably produced; if its predecessor was a collage of moody gestures and scratchy violins that hinted at more than it provided, 'The Foel Tower' is the finished article. It doesn't take long to coalesce, either. Opener 'Beckett' is a quiet storm that's immediately affecting, led at first by Matthews' dubby bassline and vulnerable voice before Connolly's shrill fiddle provides the folk brawn. It's the subtle production that has us floored; everything's got its place, and the relative emptiness is only occasionally blocked by Fini's tidal percussion and Griffiths' restrained synthwork and tape loops.
We can easily make comparisons with Bark Psychosis's flawless debut album 'Hex', but Quade don't sound as if they're simply paying tribute. Their attention to detail, especially on the production side, falls in line with Graham Sutton's enduring sonic philosophy - just peep 'See Unit', that jolts from near silence to deafening noise with eddying drums and jagged riffs that clear like grey clouds to reveal sunny, celestial harmonies in the third act. Even when they swap out the acoustic instruments for synths on 'Nannerth Ganol', Quaid's lucid vision maintains the album's coherence. Trace guitars fuzz in the distance, and neatly sequenced, liquidated cosmic bubbles pop into clouds of sublime ambience - it's ambitious, but never bombastic.
All this makes the transition into 'Canada Geese' even more shocking; opening with almost three minutes of chillingly dry acoustic folk, it's the antithesis of its predecessor and intensifies into a pressurised crescendo that simmers with cinematic tension.
So good - don't sleep on it.