Bingo Trappers

Just two years out from their excellent Elizabethan LP, Dutch duo Bingo Trappers are back and swinging through the verdant valley of ‘60s jangle. With the Byrds floating high in their rearview and an opener that references Parsons himself, the band knows how to weave breeze with a tight dash of twang in ways that stick with the listener long after the last notes lift off the air. The idea here is a postcard from the past, but while the hallmarks of the Trappers’ sound are certainly dipping into the crux of ‘60s and ‘70s, with stops along the ‘80s college rock ripple, there’s something evergreen about their sound. As much as ever these days, the specter of jangle-pop looms large among bands from San Francisco to Melbourne and their ease with country saunter pins them to the current crop of US pickers seeking to find the cosmic lay lines once again.

It’s another bittersweet batch from songwriter Waldemar Noë, full of dashed hopes, lost loves and, well, the ghost of Graham Parsons. Along with Wim Elzinga he makes the past potent once again while making the mundane shine with a glow that’s entrancing. Elzinga fleshes out the songs with subtle touches and glycerine arrangements that belie the fact that its just the two of them. The band’s been a consistent underground surge since the mid-90s, and this is honestly another gem in a long discography of likeminded works, but even if you’ve never encountered the Trappers before, jangle fans ought to feel this sink into the soul.





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