Gláss Stays Darkly Translucent on Second 'Accent' Single "You're Not Real"

Following lead single "Glass(-accent)", post-punk upstarts Gláss have allowed a second track titled "You’re Not Real" to ascend from the murky depths of their upcoming full length album, Accent.

Immediately apparent from the beginning of "You're Not Real" is a certain sense that something, however undefined, is coming. Like a sunset seen through the thickest smog, or a pulse of light coming from the remnants of a dead star, a certain sense of hopelessness and disquietude oozes from every part of the song, from the way the crystalline yet dissonant guitars dig into themselves, the sprightly yet lumbering drums, and the cold, disaffected vocal delivery repeat “you’re not real in any way”.

The ghost of Joy Division hangs heavy here, but Gláss manage to, in spite of everything, instill a certain youthful vigor into their songs and a certain mischievousness in the face of bleak despair. If Gláss has anything to prove, they’re doing a hell of a job.

Gláss "You're Not Real" Accent (02/05/2016) http://Post-Echo.com Find Gláss on Facebook- on.fb.me/1QHk02U Bandcamp- bit.ly/1FtcRmo

Wig Out With Dream Culture’s Kaleidoscopic 'Post Habitual' EP

Cover art by Mac Stewart

Dream Culture are a relatively new Athens, GA purveyor of psychedelia in its most modern sense. On their odd Picasso adorned second EP, Post Habitual, they fine tune their sound and double down on their contemporary influences to create a great little slice of psychedelic pastiche.

Now, I say pastiche here because their influences shine through not unlike that Crazy Diamond we all know and love. However, it isn’t Pink Floyd they’re sounding like here, but rather Tame Impala and Unknown Mortal Orchestra. Everything from percussion style, the impressive crunch of guitar, their choice of synthesizers, and even how the vocals are mixed in bring forth elements of both the aforementioned groups’ second albums.

While this does give Dream Culture’s overall sound on this album a very derivative feeling, this is not completely to their detriment. The band plays with an earnest tenacity that can't be denied on this album, and they sound like they had a hell of a time recording this biz. Come for the kaleidoscopic grooves, stay because it’s too much fun not to.

Sample the EP with two standout tracks "Doesn't Have To Be" and "EveryDay" below. Post Habitual is out now on Moeke Records and you can buy it in full here.

Destroyer Ushers in a 'Poison Season'

Ah, Dan Bejar, with your linen shirts, lah-dah-dahs and wonderfully verbose lyrical content, welcome back. After four long years, Poison Season is Destroyer’s latest offering to the industry he loves to routinely criticize.

What initially comes to mind is how it might compare to the preceding record, 2011's Kaputt, though you can’t approach this LP the same way. It's not that the two aren’t comparable, though; the players on Poison Season were all part of the band Bejar put together for the Kaputt tour. 

What we have here, however, is an altogether different album. For those who were introduced to the world of Destroyer with Kaputt, it could be feasible they might not like Poison Season; Gone are the new age ambient workouts like "Poor In Love" and the sad-boy disco stomp of that damn near perfect title-track. Poison Season is a live band playing Destroyer songs, and good ones at that.

That's not to say that the ambience is completely lost, as evident in "The River"’s soothing presence, it’s just presented differently. In interviews Bejar has compared this setup he’s got going on to the likes of Billy Joel, and, at risk of sounding like a yes-man, yes, the instrumentation does remind a bit of Billy Joel and the like.

Above everything, though, we still have Bejar’s sense of melody and always outstanding understanding of why English can be such a cool language when put to music. His deft turns of speech and beautifully surreal imagery (like on "Forces From Above"), ear for little details (the lone saxophone in the right speaker holding its note out at the end of "Times Square" just does things to me, man), and deft use of older lyrical cliches for his own purposes ("Sun in the Sky") all serve as reminders that Dan Bejar knows what he’s doing here.

Let the record wash over you. Pay attention to what he has to say because, hell, whatever it is he’s trying to say sounds really pretty when he says it.