There's this rather interesting and intriguing set of songs lingering on my PC... you know, in that sort of "come hear me out" kind of way? Always thinking that I'll get around to that... in just a few hours. Well.. here we are at last.
I'm expecting something akin to normal from The Real Beavers (don't you just love that name?).. and their self-intitled album: The Real Beavers. 11 tracks of something else...actually not normality at all.
As I take each in turn I'm getting stranded on that far away island of old memories... wanting to be rescued and comforted by those safe feelings of musical recognition.... I'm not quite sure where l am or just where I've been. Okay, Okay.... it's like this.. strands of 60s garage punkiness are whipped up with huge dollops of Dire Straits... seemingly endless folds and revolts against this backstop of classic English art rock. Thrown completely on any way to further describe these compositions. It's kind of exciting, new and yet strangely subtle.. but: ah, there you go... changes again.
Fearful of missing something I find myself attached to each track and listening with increasing intent. These songs are well crafted, asking you to suspend conformity and surrender to the idea that this is all coming at you from a new direction. Well it really does too.. but dragging some well managed and common themes of the genre.... I'm thinking that this is confusion but no... it's all really rather clever and nice.
Cozy Chaos is the title of one of the songs here... how so very appropriate. The jingle jangle of guitars that echo from 1967.... The sound of The Deviants or early Pink Fairies. One might suggest even a drop of Pink Floyd in there too.
You might draw some conclusion of a band that has somewhat of an identity crisis.. but you'd be so wrong. There's a well woven blanket of colour and texture... very very recognisable.. and embroidered with beautiful little psychedelic stabs around the hem.
Psycho World is once more appropriately entitled and pulls to a close this album. Not a brusk or noisy end piece but more of the same intrigue. A soft good bye and thanks for being here.
The Real Beavers are certainly real, certainly impromptu in their performance herein and quite pathological in their dissection of a series of genres... They've steered close to the wind and more than once fooled me into an expectation of something else.... another direction.
Clever boys! Shall we look deeper? Investigate further? Indeed we must!