This entire review was written wearing the 3D glasses which came with my math textbook which, coincidentally, has a picture of a Deerhoof and Erase Errata poster in it and also states that 2 is an interesting number because "it is the fewest number of people required to make a baby." It is a pretty good book.
Flying Canyon (newcoming oldtimer Cayce Lindner backed by, essentially, the Skygreen Leopards) bill themselves as "California Doom Folk" but it just ain't true, homies. Folk: certainly. California: yes. Doom: nope. No dread ever creeps into this recording. Its echo-y, slow songs give more the impression of taking your dose of Quaaludes a little before nightfall when you really wanted to. This is, yet again, a perfect soundtrack to the closing days of summer; its release date no doubt carefully belaboured upon. Those fearing uncomfortable pipes from the hirsute man on the front cover (Can you see him? 3D glasses help.) should fear not, as Lindner's voice is far younger than his visage. If not for the promotional pictures of him, I'd never have guessed the man's age. His voice perfectly fits his choice of melancholic melodies and Shayde Sartin and Glenn Donaldson's backing arrangements and harmonies add an extra layer of nostalgia.
The tone of the album is consistent in its lagging, fuzzy folk and brief enough for this not to have consequence. Highlights include opener "In The Reflection," the album's most straight-ahead rock track, the tiny picking and Native Americana of "Down To Summer," "The Bull Who Knew The Ring," which finds Lindner's voice at its most compelling and confident, the gorgeous folk of "Gibralter May Fall," and the languid slide guitar-aided beauty of "At Night When The World Goes Quiet" which comes courtesy of Skygreen Leopard Donovan Quinn. The album's weaker points come when the band dips into early Oldham-style recorded-a-room-over folk musing such as on "The Dawn Curtain" and "This Can't Be My Home." "Relover" finds itself too direct for the difficuly melodies it presents. However, the tone of these track remains unified with the others and they truly only suffer under singular analyzation.
Honestly, before a single, specific listening to this album, I didn't like it all. Listening to it in the near-brutalist concrete of my apartment complex doesn't quite fit it. It wasn't until I made a poor choice to vote yes on Proposition Shortcut and found myself driving through small town Texas at sunset during late summer lost did I really enjoy this album. The vast majority of albums simply benefit from a specific context. Thank God outside of Texas's culturally barren cityscapes (Austin is not Texas, you should know that) there is some honest-to-goodness nature to explore. Flying Canyon certainly benefitted from it. And I certainly benefitted from them.
