In the flurry of genre tags and the "next best" fads, some styles remain constant. Thankfully liquor sodden acoustic antecedes and will outlast any musical revolution. You're only an alcoholic if you drink alone, so take comfort in UK friends Small Town Boredom.
On their debut LP, Autumn Might Have Hope, singer Colin Morrison whispers haunting tales of love and loss with exasperated delivery. The record is refreshingly simplistic and straight-forward with an immediate message of relatable themes. With lo-fi acoustic as all-encompassing a term as post-rock, the minimal production effects accentuate the aching vocals and barely-there finger-plucks rather than overpower the endeavor, and keep the vibe more smokey-dive than raucous stomp-along.
Luckily, Morrison's spacey, sullen whispers range in several tints. "Apologies for Apathy" exudes a resilient vibe of determination with the dual vocals backed by a climbing organ. "The Great Lodging" is a haunting melody of ghostly echoes with a much needed electric guitar buzz. Huzzah. Most of the time I have no idea what Morrison says—though whenever he whispers, "sorry" is never far behind. The hushed delivery and jarbled sentences create sort of a Pocahaunted coo and wail fest, another layer of ambience, and while the dense reverbed mumbles slay alone, the decipherable lyrics stay hit or miss; they span from immature moping (“my heart is still burning") to ephemeral wisdoms (“disregard truth / lie endlessly”). “Apologies for Apathy” is probably the strongest cut on the album, fully fleshed out with killer vox call and response that soothes as it reminisces about “memories in the Fall.”
Still, some of my favorite moments are on the instrumental tracks where the production takes center stage. “Williams Summer Blues” creates a hypnotic effect with driving dual acoustics and “On the Crookston Line” is a brisk lo-fi diddy. Autumn can feel twice its fifty-minute length, and these interruptions help ease the draining listen. In fact the production is the highlight of Autumn; songs devolve into an experimental pulse and clear-cutting spoken word moments rip through the dense melody.
STB shapes intensely personal and introspective tunes, more therapy than entertainment. This is their biggest strength and weakness. Autumn is a soundscape of STB's own experiences, never catering to the audience, and even the briefest of visits can try your patience. Naturally it's an absolute grower and, if you have the patience or the purpose, is perfect for those "quiet backwards moments."
-James Anaipakos