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Rarely am I so captivated with such an odd album. Here's my review:
Like some Star Wars fans think you should watch the movies out of order for the best storytelling of the overarching canon, I have a proposal for you before you dig into this baddie.
Start at the title track "Supermarket Woman", Track 9. One condition to proceed past this song is that you have to like it. If you don't like Track 9, then just don't bother with the rest of the album and save yourself an hour.
Now for the rest of you that are onboard, go from Track 9.
Best put by a friend, "it sounds like they told ai to make an album that sounds like 1950s commercialism and island music had a baby". I'd go to add that this supposed AI was a fan of Wesley Willis, too.
From this dystopian lo-fi bop (bop used sparingly in my dictionary) to the top of the album is like the whiplash from a double-shot of whiskey directly into snorting a line of blow...if whiskey was a liminal space fever-dream and the cocaine were the Balearic Islands.
You might also find yourself in the downtempo post-post-punk boogie woogie you dreamt of DJing for your one (1) friend that would tolerate it and the four (4) other bystanders hanging out at the record shop at 2pm on a Friday.
After a Spanish influence brings us into the first two songs of the album, we pivot into a dance track at Track 3, "9 Moons" (a remix release was put out as well), and onward through a gentle, rhythmic and interesting ride down to the "Lambrusco Party" (Track 5).
My energy keeping consistent, yet meditative, "Six Am" (Track 6) is exactly how I want to wake up after a molly bender on a pale-sand beach. It would motivate anyone for a mushroom-spinach omelette after a night like that.
I sank into Tracks 7 & 8, understanding the definition of an album-cut here, desperately edging on the story arc of how-in-the-fuck we get back to Track 9 through this album's story. I need a snack.
Like a cold-handed caress after a slap to the face, Track 10 & 11 wind me back down.
"In a State" (Track 12); Thom Yorke as fuck. What can't Lemonade Market do?
The proverbial needle hits the proverbial run-out groove on this record and it has me longing with questions in the music's absence. Questions about who these three white figures on the album cover are, where the chairs in which they're sitting were photographed, and why on god's green earth they used that font along the bottom.
Album Rating: 10/10
Feb 14, 2024
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By 2010, indie music was looking like it was turning away from a series of regrettable choices; dead bands walking, basically. Then Halcyon Digest came along and reclaimed the joyous nostalgic highlights of the decade that had gone before in a captivating sonic capsule of subdued celebration.
This album still reaches out to me from the slumber of an era in tentative transition - a beacon from a pea soup fog. The youthfulness of old was suddenly paired with the magnetism of experimentation and the result was a scintillating salute that tore the banality surrounding it to shreds. It also contains some of frontman Bradford Coxâs best compositions: the molasses memory stick âEarthquake,â the deceptively jaunty âRevival,â the almost-Vampire Weekend old/timeyness of âHelicopter,â Coxâs tribute to the late Jay Reatard âHe Would Have Laughedâ and the bandâs best song and bid for pop greatness, âDesire Lines.â Cox described the LPâs title as âa reference to a collection of fond memories and even invented ones, like my friendship with Ricky Wilson or the fact that I live in an abandoned victorian autoharp factory. The way that we write and rewrite and edit our memories to be a digest version of what we want to remember, and how that's kind of sad." The past is still with us, just in re-remembered and sometimes wholly invented form. A masterpiece that I wish more people immediately tagged as such. 10/10, no notes.
Dec 11, 2024
[Iâm no music writer- I might not have the vocab to adequately express what I want to say here]
It took me way too long to listen to this album. I think itâs perfect. Iâve been an oM fan for a while, but I was always frustrated by the pacing and structure of some of their songs. For example, Lysergic Bliss is a great pop song, imo, then goes into the back section of seemingly unrelated acapella. Impressive on its own, but itâs a skip every time for me⊠I could list a handful more where I feel the same way if you disagree with that one.
This album is made of self-contained songs filled with the catchy hooks and fun chord structures that make oM great. The melodies and harmonies are beautiful and they remind me of paul mccartneyâs songwriting- especially on Everything Disappears When You Come Around. Itâs to-the-point: 35min total with a lot of the tracks in the 1:00-2:30 range. The songwriting is far less abstract than in other releases, which makes it easier to follow. Itâs largely a happy album, great to walk around to. Now that the weather is starting to turn I think you should try it out or listen again.
Mar 21, 2024
The Laâs made their first and only album three times, and rejected all three for not being good enough. The label got fed up and released the third attempt without frontman Lee Maversâ permission. Mavers has dismissed it ever since as being âall fucked up like a snake with a broken back.â I get that itâs his burden to strive for perfection, but his failure is my inspiration.
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I relistened to this album a while back and have been stuck on it for months. There is not a single wrong note, not a single moment of hesitation on the whole record. It is pop rock written and performed with a despotic level of focus. As far as songwriters go, Lee Mavers may well be the equivalent of a mad scientist deep underground trying to create a perfect vacuum night after night. The songs are concentrated, some of them so economically structured that they barely even exist. They may not be ambitious in scope or message, but they are crystal clear statements.Â
I love Lee Maversâ voice more than anything, he sings like he wishes his voice could be as perfect as a guitar. Heâs straining so hard, he hits each note so squarely on its head, never a syllable out of time, heâs got no room for attitude, heâs trying to write songsâŠ
Feb 6, 2025
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