Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

There is a paternal-sounding antagonist who's "got your nose" at the end of this record; he's "looking out for number one" but damned if I can tell who this is. This is that vague arcane feeling one gets when one is very high and feels some guidance in the root of it all, but that presence could also be inimical. You just have to trust the steady shuffle if the drums, the melange of sound around this friendly, yet somewhat fearsome, authoritarian voice. It plays with you, in more ways than one, on "Bridge of Daggers."

Daguerreotypes play out with the Cave Singers as well as many other bands such as Vampire Hands or PWRFL POWER. Call it the new misty mountain hop, subliminally lysergic, somehow crisply languid, a tropical bop of the bit of brain behind the two bits in front.

For the past two weeks when I have a spare moment and need to relax and shake off the frantic foam of daily existence I have been spinning this new EP by Daguerreotypes — sometimes you love a band and you are happy others "get it" too, because its sublime qualities could easily be lost in the look-at-me hustle of modern music making and marketing. I was happy to see Megan Seling at The Stranger liked them enough to do a sweet write-up.

This album pays homage to the cream of the early 70s British eccentrics like Kevin Ayers, Kevin Coyne, John Cale's more melodic solo work, and the delicious blues and easy listening subversion of Dave Thomas in Pere Ubu (and his solo landscapes and various collaborations). The lyrics here are all worthy of inspection. I will let you discover their sublime pleasures, and the music is there for whenever you want to chill out alertly and intelligently. Very smooth, but not at all sedating.

The Tropical Trust EP is a generous five-song sampler of some of this Seattle band's dazzling reptile meditations. As I write this, outside a warm rain absorbs my apartment on a dirty street above the Ave, and memories of psych trips in the region echo though my cells. This is a soundtrack for a psychogeographic memory.

Songs like the beginning-of-civilization sounding blues rant "Bridge of Daggers" or the 80s-telepathic "Telegram to Tegucigalpa" could be on repeat for hours as I stare out the window, feeling this private world I'm in melt into the city. I have the feeling they're like classic Brit bands like the Creatures live, creating masterful rhythms beneath jungle fevers. I'm going to check that out as soon as I can.