Dimples

The elusive, enigmatic, bi-coastal duo Dimples returns for another run at the wobble-pop crown. The duo of Greg Hartunian and Colby Nathan might be holding down different time zones, but when they connect, time slows entirely within their melted wax world. Circling the edges of soul, indie pop, and the kind of sweat-box pop that’s long been associated with R. Stevie Moore and more recently kept burning through Alex Izenberg, Karl Frog, and Paint. In fact, Izenberg turns up on two tracks here, lending guitar to the opening two offerings. Like their contemporary, Dimples integrate the chugging JJ Cale canter into the bones of their blurry pop palette. They leave the tapes to bake in the sun just a touch, though, never playing quite the same hangdog hero as Cale, instead letting their lounge fill with a fragrant smoke. The opium den drizzle turns the record into a half-dreamt delight, something that haunts the hi-fi through the shift from drifting to drowning in the bottom end of the bottle.

The pair excels at tying the record together into a seamless slide off of the edge of the world. One track tumbles into the next with charismatic confidence, delivered with the unbuttoned swagger of a last call troubadour. The songs drip down the glass, catch the light off the bar fluorescents, and wade deep into the psychic damage of the 21st century. There’s an aqueous feeling to Obscure Residue, a rasping feeling here, rhythms lapping at the listener there, and always an unshakeable humidity that engulfs every corner of the record. Once inside Dimples’ delirium, it’s hard to shake it. The feeling remains a constant right up until the fever breaks on “Passage of Time.” The album closer jerks the listener out of the murk, a sweet saunter into country shadows and unfettered folk that breaks the spell like a poultice for the pain. The band’s last outing was an under the radar stunner, and Obscure Residue has all the hallmarks of another essential. Don’t let it slip by.

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