Rosemary Krust: Bernt Anker
No sense in overcomplicating it--Bernt Anker, Rosemary Krust's second 7-inch of '09, is simple in dissection. Take one part "pretty" and blast, flood, or stew it with two parts fuzz and/or feedback. For the net result, imagine His Name Is Alive caught in a dust storm, if you like. And it's that simplicity--and a weird and hard-to-explain lack of self-consciousness--that helps make this frequently so sublime. And effortlessly so.
In a way, 2008's relatively varied Slow Light LP--misshapen indie-rock melodies; inward-looking, minimal Zomes-y drone, and vibe-mess, mostly one at a time--was simpler, and less shambolic. Bernt Anker starts off slow with "Fire," a big reverberating guitar line snaking out a melody while Katherine Plummer sings from what sounds like purgatory; it's captivating, not like a fire but like all-encompassing gravity. "For Matthia," meanwhile, is a transcendent mess of distant guitar cloudburst and what sounds like a tiny accordion, while a simple pop song traces through the fray. And all four songs reduce to something like pop lovingly damaged--which is an idea that's been effed to all hell by the hype machine, but credit Rosemary Krust with a beautiful pre-hype take on it, at least.
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