The Sunday Reeds : Dark Rainbows

Have you ever made a mix tape for somebody you wanted to bang? Then you're already familiar to what flow is: the ability to maintain a mood. Named after Melbourne's Patron of the Arts, The Sunday Reeds seem to possess this ephemeral skill in abundance. It's essential, whether it be a full-length album or an EP, that bands adhere to this basic technique. We've all been to those social events where the DJ plays a danceable hip-hop track, then one heartbreakingly crawling classic rock song, then back to a quick, paced-up punk track, which invariably fucks with your whole party demeanor - and nobody wants that.

Despite the album's title, I'm immediately reminded of arena/sunshine bands from the late 80s whose focus was on space and simplicity. Although a contemporary outfit, and without trying to deliberately strike up nostalgic undertones, TSR's discernible melodies sling me to an earlier time, a place of melancholy and teenage solitude. It's refreshing to hear a band that hasn't made it obvious that they've dedicated marathon sessions to their instruments creating idiosyncratic blobs of modern pop. Minimalist in nature, Ashton's somewhat cool, detached and despondent female vocals fused with Jones's ambient droning, almost microdot guitar effects painted over a weaving serpentine pulse manifests into a lingering, honest collection of tunes that should be played loud.