Parallax Error

HIEROPHANTS

Aarght!/Goner

Hierophants’ aesthetic comes off as something like a cross between the Fall and the Residents (the “Roll over Beethoven” quote is telling), though unlike the latter we know exactly who Hierophants are: one woman and three men from Geelong, Victoria, Australia, all of whom have names and faces, however irrelevant. Hierophants is a good name — something like a band that skirts the line between familiar and obscure — the significance of “Parallax Error” is anyone’s guess, probably just a concept the band found interesting, but it does speak to the songs’ qualities of always seeming slightly obfuscated.

What are they singing about? Stress, an “impending sense of doom,” every other line unintelligible — they all write and sing, it seems, rarely breaking the three-minute mark. Refreshing, as is the subject matter, because aren’t we tired of the quasi-introspection that’s littering the alternative music world today? How about plain-old what-we-feel, like paranoia or mood swings? Their terseness has its limits, of course, but it’s worth sitting through for those glorious moments like “Hail Stones” where you could swear you’ve never heard that keyboard melody before. 

Sleepwalker

LONG BEARD

Team Love

I’m not entirely sure what to make of this inconspicuous album — it has a nice flow to it, and all its discrete parts work equally well together and apart, from Leslie Bear’s Hope-Sandoval-minus-the-Sominex vocals to the gets-the-job-done drumming. Rock music and arrangements where the guitar and vocals are mixed in front have been sadly beaten down by the EDM era. Leslie reminds us that shoegaze was a legitimate alternative to grunge (or perhaps alternative to alternative) while simultaneously demonstrating the dangers of too much reverb.

Remember how Smashing Pumpkins got softer every time out, but it was alright because we already knew they could crank the dial? “Sleepwalker” has that syndrome in reverse; it’s restless, there’s no bite, even though it’s suggested by its instruments — the title is quite prescient. Sometimes, when I hear those spirits in the background of, say, “Someplace,” I think maybe I’m listening to something special, but then I’m left repeating the next song’s title, "What.”

But I hate the party too, Leslie, and if you broaden your dimensions a bit for your second album, I’ll come back for your third.

Travis Johnson lives in New London. He has a music blog that can be found at theoldnoise.blogspot.com. Follow him @ThisOldNoise or contact him at thisoldnoise@gmail.com.