Double Feature: Foliage - "Silence" // Beach Fossils - "Somersault"

Foliage - "Dare"

(2017 Spirit Goth)

If it weren't for their Bandcamp bio, it'd be easy to assume that Foliage frontman Manuel Joseph Walker lived somewhere in London or Manchester, circa 1980. Spiking Another Sunny Day's jangle-pop gloom with the tense punk shuffle of The Clash's "Lost in the Supermarket", the San Bernadino-based solo act's latest single, "Dare" synthesizes the best sounds to emerge from Britain during the decade-long Thatcher-era. Walker has stripped away much of the reverb that saturated his 2015 debut record, Truths, filling in the empty space with distressed kick drums and meatier bass. Backed by melodica and an uncredited vocalist, he feels as indebted to My So Called Life's soundtrack as he does to Wild Nothing -- there's something vaguely folky that possesses the sustained "oooohs" snaking through the new track, adding flesh to the more skeletal compositions of their earlier work.

Beach Fossils - Somersault

(2017 Bayonet)

The discography of Brooklyn's Beach Fossils (who, until recently, I assumed had disbanded) has taken a similar turn for the tidier. Their fourth LP, Somersault, is the band's first release in as many years, representing an exodus from their former cakes of movie-theater buttered beach pop. It's lighter fare, consisting of their usual layered, staccato riffs -- only here, they're lightly salted with hints of smooth jazz and 70s soft rock, intensifying their flavor instead of drowning it. Somersault is a tasteful outing, proving that for better or for worse, Beach Fossils have aged alongside the fans who've closely followed their 8-year adolescence.

"Tangerine" is an early sign of evolution. Featuring a wispy verse sung by Slowdive's Rachel Goswell, the band's guitars take an unexpected backseat to Jack Doyle Smith's loping basslines and the occasional splatter of strings. Where Beach Fossils once resembled the early hardcore hustle of Descendents -- their walls of trebly fuzz shoved along by blast-beats -- they could now be mistaken for the Byrds, glistening with Paisley-patterned psychedelia. "Closer Everywhere" nearly eschews six-stringed instruments altogether, opting instead for harpsichord and melty threads of baroque orchestration. As much as I'm loath to make a comparison to The Beatles, I'd be lying if I said the track doesn't evoke the backmasked intro to "I Am the Walrus", tightly winding screwball harmonies about a barely-there rhythm section. 

"Rise" guides Somersault into totally unfamiliar territory, cloaking a spoken word verse by cloud-rapper Cities Aviv in washes of Rhodes piano and saxophone. Out of context it sounds like a jarring sonic swerve, yet sandwiched between the Real Estate riffage of "May 1st" and "Sugar", a downtempo shoegaze tune, it makes for a seamless transition that's one of the record's most replayable moments. 

Despite a couple tracks that fall short of Beach Fossils' usual standard, like the anemic "Down the Line" (which is redeemed by the verse "I really hate your poetry", delivered with frontman Payseur's uniformly breezy disinterest), the band has returned with a record original enough to shake off their countless Bandcamp imitators while staying true to their effortless pop ethos. The aptly-titled "That's All for Now" caps things off with Somersault's best offering. It's a compositional nod to the trio's self-titled debut, polishing its daydreamed vocals and sun-bleached melodies. A few concluding licks of country-crossover slide guitar hold the door for listeners, as if to promise more surprise experimentation in the future. 

For a band that's been silent for four years, Beach Fossils sound fresher than ever.

Issue 14 Out Now!

Half-Gifts issue 14 includes interviews with San Bernardino jangle-pop project Foliage and two local record stores; Sugarcube and Torn Light. This volume also includes a look at the most exciting record labels of 2015 and, as usual, plenty of album reviews. GET YOUR COPY HERE

Review: Foliage - "Truths"

Foliage - Truths

(2015 Human Sounds)

Maybe I'm a little too young to feel nostalgic, but there's something about Foliage's debut LP that sends me back to the first half of 2012, around the time I first started this blog. Age 14 was what I consider to be a pivotal point in my life, one marked by change and anticipation. I attended a small Catholic school populated by about two-hundred students, few of whom lived anywhere near me. Though at the time, like most kids, I was beginning to discern what sort of person I was and what sort of interests I wanted to pursue, I felt more limited than ever. The world of shoegaze and art had been opened up to me via the internet, yet I had no means of getting physically within range of it without a driver's license or connections. I spent much of my time waiting for things to happen - field trips, birthdays, school dances. Life is pretty boring as a 14 year old and you have to set up benchmarks, events to look towards to get you through the week. Not surprisingly, I associate many of the bands I listened to at that age (Wild Nothing, Craft Spells, Airiel) with a feeling of anticipation. While being ferried to school or a friend's house in our grey minivan, while waiting to be picked up, while squandering free time over the weekend, chillwave-y bedroom pop was playing in the background. 

Hearing Truths for the first time was like finding a box of old toys in the attic or scanning a yearbook. Wrapping my conscious in a cloak of reverb, the album revived old emotions, some pleasant, some of them cringe-inducing. Foliage's M Joseph Walker has the uncanny ability draw pathos from his listener, creating an atmosphere that is both airy and impactful. He'll loop droney guitar riffs for just long enough to let you to snuggle up in their warmth, and then suddenly you'll be hit by a chill inducing chord change or twinkly, chorus-laden melody. The precision of his craft is staggering. Walker's vocal delivery reminds me of Justin Vallesteros' echoey croon as Craft Spells' frontman. They add yet another layer of woozy ambience to an already dreamy album, one made to drift off to in the passenger seat, gazing out the window.