Snails

Skirting the periphery of the new jangle slingers, Bristol’s Snails don’t exactly dip into the oft-drawn well of Sarah/C86. Instead the band feeds their indie pop engine on a welcome mix of Kinksian Village Green comforts, the sweater weather introversion of Nick Drake, and the aloof delivery of Dean Wareham. The band’s third album, and second for UK label Glass Modern, finds the band proffering a plethora of cozy pop without a button out of place on their cardigans. While there are some that might hackle at Just Look Around’s precious nature, it succeeds in creating an atmosphere that’s intimately lived in, a curio that comes to life through their strums and sighs. Somewhere out there Wes Anderson’s ears are burning and a slow pan starts across carefully curated colors offset against woodgrain. Pick a track in the bunch and any would all fit in among the filmmaker’s early work.

On that note, the record is indeed a bit precious, but sometimes we all need something that’s attuned the the quiet comforts. The chafe of modern life leaves as much room for scratching rage out through squalls, screams, and psychedelics as it does for bundling up like the Sleepytime Tea bear and taking a 30 minute stare out the window with Snails. The other side to that spoonful of sugar, is that it allows the band to slip some deft lyricism in amongst their cotton cords. Songwriter Dan Weltman knows how to work a turn of phrase, crackling wit against the speakers with the glow of a mid-winter fire. This one has the potential to fly well under the radar here Stateside, but I say don’t let it pass you by.

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