Sun Araw – Beach Head (Sun Ark)
Reading interviews with Sun Araw’s Cameron Stallones, you might be led to the conclusion that Beach Head, the band’s newest release, would be just about the greatest thing ever. As reference points, he tosses out Fela Kuti, Zuma-era Neil Young, Big Star, and Steve Reich. And while he will admit that the link between his music and that of the aforementioned greats isn’t always readily apparent, a listener would be hard-pressed to find it at all. Instead, Beach Head acts as a sort of long-form druggy exotica, like Les Baxter learning the universe’s harsh realities on a particularly long peyote trip. It may not seem fair to use a term like “exotica,” which is so often attached to things as a dismissive gesture, with the implication that it lacks a certain emotional authenticity–that it is evocation for evocation’s sake, cheap escapism dressed up as art. Stallones seems to regard his work earnestly, which presents something of a problem in its interpretation. Between the album’s title, cover, and much of its music, it would be easy to regard it as a vaguely tongue-in-cheek exercise in mood music, and quite frankly it can be difficult to see why it should be heard otherwise.
This doesn’t make the album bad, or difficult to listen to. The echoing Beach Boys-esque organ on “Horse Steppin” focuses its aimless percussion and hazy moaned vocals. The cascade of metallic percussion that introduces “Thoughts Are Bells” adds dynamics to an otherwise drone-heavy album. As background music, it’s fine. Better than many of the similar bands that probably think of themselves as “experimental” but end up coming off sounding like drug music for art students and American Apparel models. As song-oriented music, it falls short simply by lacking any sort of forward momentum. As experimental/ambient/minimal music, it seems to lack the focus and gravity that has granted the band’s influences their staying power, preferring to dabble in armchair tourism that often comes off contrived. As these things go, Beach Head is not a dismal failure or a horrible record. It’s perfectly pleasant, unobtrusive music. But when “pleasant” is the nicest thing that can be said of an album, it seems unlikely that the artist has created anything lasting or moving.
Sun Araw – Beach Head (Sun Ark)
Reading interviews with Sun Araw’s Cameron Stallones, you might be led to the conclusion that Beach Head, the band’s newest release, would be just about the greatest thing ever. As reference points, he tosses out Fela Kuti, Zuma-era Neil Young, Big Star, and Steve Reich. And while he will admit that the link between his music and that of the aforementioned greats isn’t always readily apparent, a listener would be hard-pressed to find it at all. Instead, Beach Head acts as a sort of long-form druggy exotica, like Les Baxter learning the universe’s harsh realities on a particularly long peyote trip. It may not seem fair to use a term like “exotica,” which is so often attached to things as a dismissive gesture, with the implication that it lacks a certain emotional authenticity–that it is evocation for evocation’s sake, cheap escapism dressed up as art. Stallones seems to regard his work earnestly, which presents something of a problem in its interpretation. Between the album’s title, cover, and much of its music, it would be easy to regard it as a vaguely tongue-in-cheek exercise in mood music, and quite frankly it can be difficult to see why it should be heard otherwise.
This doesn’t make the album bad, or difficult to listen to. The echoing Beach Boys-esque organ on “Horse Steppin” focuses its aimless percussion and hazy moaned vocals. The cascade of metallic percussion that introduces “Thoughts Are Bells” adds dynamics to an otherwise drone-heavy album. As background music, it’s fine. Better than many of the similar bands that probably think of themselves as “experimental” but end up coming off sounding like drug music for art students and American Apparel models. As song-oriented music, it falls short simply by lacking any sort of forward momentum. As experimental/ambient/minimal music, it seems to lack the focus and gravity that has granted the band’s influences their staying power, preferring to dabble in armchair tourism that often comes off contrived. As these things go, Beach Head is not a dismal failure or a horrible record. It’s perfectly pleasant, unobtrusive music. But when “pleasant” is the nicest thing that can be said of an album, it seems unlikely that the artist has created anything lasting or moving.
