Cuneiform Tabs

Psych-folk always runs with a sense of ebb and flow; a genre that, even when it’s in fashion, is still on the outskirts. While it’s largely been submerged in its popularity since the public’s dalliance in the early aughts, each year still brings a few new surprises to the genre. This year that surprise coms from the sophomore album out of Oakland/London’s Cuneiform Tabs. The long distance duo, comprised of Matt Bleyle and Sterling Mackinnon locks into the 4-track foam quite nicely on Age. Trading recordings back and forth, the band creates their pen pal prog somewhere in the ether of tape hiss and degraded software, lacquering the noise floor with a bit of pop this time around. Sure, there might be some inevitable comparisons to Here Comes The Indian-era AC to be had, especially in the album’s early moments on “Crow Speech” and “Flush In The Cheeks,” and for those longing for the simpler days of damaged folk that’s gonna feel like coming home.

The pair don’t dig themselves a hole too deep that they can’t crawl out, though, and they spin their dirge folk into a hazy dream filled with pop visions recited in tidal breath. Songs echo from far across the plain, and hooks lost in a fog begin to poke through as the album pushes towards its center. Anchored by the sweetly stung “Orbital Rings,” “Ivy,” “Alyosha, and “Blended Medal,” the album crawls out of the clouds just enough to tease the listener before slipping back below the saturated surface. The second side shakes some of their Collective impulses, feeling more aligned with the Skygreen/Ivytree end of the spectrum, ably showcasing the band’s balance between obfuscation and earworms. Age winds up a lovely album that’s built for afternoon wanders with headphones, following the breezes where they lead. If you’ve been aching for some corroded pop pleasures, look no further this year.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.