The best musicians create memorable experiences. You may remember the first time you heard the fantastic guitar work on “Missed The Boat” by Modest Mouse or the percussive interchanges on the first Arcade Fire album. When you listen to highly textured songs — the howling dogs on “Mr. Noah” by Panda Bear or the aching moans on just about any Chelsea Wolfe song, you want to listen twice.
I’ve been suffering from night sweats recently. I’m not sure what it is about our psychology or the kinds of days we’re living in where, upon bedtime, our daily anxieties are brought to a boil. And while for most sleep is eventually achieved, our subconscious still struggles throughout the night and sends our body into panic without our knowledge or permission.
Josh “Deakin” Dibb is the Ringo of Animal Collective—the member of a revered psychedelic-pop quartet that gets the least amount of love. Though in Dibb’s case, that’s mostly a function of spotty attendance. He’s the only Animal Collective member still taking advantage of the group’s formative open-door policy, having appeared on just five of their 10 official albums, and his perceived expendability is further underscored by the fact the band’s most successful record to date—2009’s Merriweather Post Pavilion—was recorded without him.
Within the moonlit sphere fashioned by Animal Collective's Josh Gibb in this mini solo album as Deakin, his particular influence on that group's one of a kind sound becomes more understood. A midnight stroll through six vignettes rekindles effervescent orchestrations from the Animal Collective records he surfaced for, such as Feels, and makes his absence from their most recent Painting With more recognizable. Even an earlier Animal Collective vibe predating Deakin's input is strung in with the panoramas of field recordings and rolling currents of funneled out loops.
OVER THE COURSE of ten studio albums and a slew of one-off releases, Animal Collective has gained a reputation for being a musical chameleon in the experimental music scene while also magically maintaining a spirit, some unspeakable trademark on their changing faces. Earlier this year, however, the group released Painting With, an album that scrupulously cut through their once creatively pulsating psychedelic brain like a dull colored scalpel. What existed earlier at the center of their best material was the melodic sugar-hiccuping vocals of Avey Tare and Panda Bear, frequently embarking on a voyage through buckets of reverb, and a forest of warm, comforting slabs of psychedelia; these were arrangements so gauzy they left a strikingly addictive residue.
Our latest installment of Quick Takes may be up a little bit later than usual, but bear with us - with so many surprise releases, from Radiohead to James Blake to Drake, we've been just as overwhelmed as all of you trying to keep up. But that doesn't stop us from acknowledging some records that we ….