Fantastic record!!!
New York duo Minks operate a picture-heavy blog that announces a band equally in thrall to American scuzz punk and classic British indie, but it’s the Anglophile side that dominates their debut album ‘By the Hedge’.
Multi-instrumentalists Sean (sometimes Shaun) Kilfoyle and Amalie Bruun have pitched up with a slightly greater than lo-fi production which cunningly approximates the ‘as good as it gets’ sound of ambitious mid-80s guitar-pop. While budget-constricted musicians of that era strived to rise above the limitations of the cheap studios and jobbing engineers that they were saddled with in their attempts to break out of the ‘perfect pop’ underground (think of all those would-be stars struggling along on Cherry Red or early Creation Records, or their Antipodean counterparts inadvertently conjuring up the Dunedin Sound on Flying Nun), Minks stick to a deliberate home studio ethic in homage to a sound that never wanted to exist in such a ghetto. However, by doing so, Minks have succeeded in creating an album with bucketfuls of understated charm and a near perfect run of tunes. Barring a couple of downbeat moments (the almost self-explanatory dirge ‘Out of Tune’ and the slurred Dylan/Felt parody verses of ‘Funeral Song’), ‘By the Hedge’ soars highly on uplifting dream-pop (cards-on-the-table opener ‘Kusmi’) and never-never indie-pop fantasy (such as ‘Juniper’ – perhaps a nod to The Pastels’ ‘Juniper Beri-Beri’ fanzine).
Throughout ‘By the Hedge’, Kilfoyle and Bruun’s vocals are mixed with just enough reverb to obscure any clear phrasing, making the album already sound like it’s been taped for the listener by a well-meaning friend with a far from top-of-the-range record deck. Fittingly, Minks also manage to slip in a note-perfect Flying Saucer Attack-style instrumental, ‘Indian Ocean’ (title borrowed from The Field Mice), early on without disrupting the album’s tuneful flow. In Minks’ heads it may forever be a rainy 80s afternoon in Leamington Spa, but ‘By the Hedge’ is still a pop triumph. ~ Bowlegs
Friends Again - Trapped And Unwrapped (1984)
“This train is free wheelin’/there is love on board,” exclaims Chris Thompson (lead vocals, rhythm guitar) on “Lullaby No. 2,” one of the most electrifying numbers on Friends Again’s debut album, Trapped and Unwrapped. The unbridled glee in which those lyrics are sung could also epitomize the LP’s rollicking mood. The lyrics are not always decipherable, so there might be stinging words hidden beneath Friends Again’s otherwise sunny melange of funk, new wave, and country, but why ruin a good party? The band plays with contagious exuberance. “Lucky Star” moves briskly, buoyed by funky riffs and sprightly piano. The soulful guitar pop of “Lullaby No. 2” is reminiscent of fellow Scottish band Orange Juice; it is unbelievably catchy. “Sunkissed” soars with its sparkling synths and jaunty rhythms. Every track on Trapped and Unwrapped is embedded with keen hooks. Thompson’s voice could be mistaken for David Bowie’s; however, none of Bowie’s work in the ’80s was this invigorating. Surprisingly, two of the album’s best songs are among its slowest. The jangly “State of Art” illustrates adolescent infatuation with a poet’s ear for dialogue while the moving “Old Flame” glides over a breezy, laid-back groove. “Who needs the old flame/when I’ve got you, baby/burning so bright,” Thompson croons, his voice emitting the warmth of a summer’s day at the beach. Now imagine an entire LP like that. ~ Michael Sutton, AMG
Do you believe in magic?
Come along with me
We’ll dance until morning, just you and me
and maybe, if the music is right
I’ll meet ya tomorrow
so late at night
The Lovin’ Spoonful - Do You Believe In Magic (Do You Believe In Magic, 1965)
