Skin To Soil by Wet Wings
So. This is maybe a conflict of interest. Darian Woods is one half of this Christchurch duo and he is also a friend of mine. I don't think it matters though, as the quality of this release sort of transcends friendships and things like that. This is so good that you could be listening to it, and your least favourite person could also be listening too it, and you'd both admit that you like it and probably bond or something.
Supposedly, recorded in the wake of Christchurch's magnitude 7.1 earthquake. I doubt it, but it's a nice thing to write in a press release. It's also a charming image. These two young Cantabrians wistfully blowing notes into microphones and carefully plucking at acoustic guitars and keyboards whilst the earth quite literally moves gently beneath their feet.
It's almost believable given the incredible fragility present on Skin to Soil. Everything feels like gossamer. Everything is stretched thin with desperation. “I want to suck on your shoulder” breathes Woods to his female counterpart, Lucy Botting, as if it's the only thing left to do.
The music moves with the kind of detached intimacy of memories of your grandparent's classical music collection. It's all ebb and flow and gentle. The best parts of Beach House and the best parts of the Animal Collective and the best parts of Belle and Sebastian.
Pop songs for people who spend the day half asleep. The most sparkling track here is “Running Like a Man” which is a kind of baroque-falling-into-deep-sleep thing. Regal and fragmented with domino lyrics and a chorus which is beautiful and enchanting and easy to like.
I heard on the radio once that honey never expires. Wet Wings sound like old honey.
The album has been released on limited edition cassette tape by American label Infinity Tapes.