Outstanding album -- swallow whole.
The foundation of this record is laid with the spare opening track, Fleas, & then built up, brick by brick, with measured flings of superb indy rockness like Civilizations, Duct Tape and Midwest Scorpions. Vintage keyboard tones hum like chunky peanut butter, intertwined with slippery smooth guitar melodies & coursing drum beats that simmer & bounce along an open road. By far IJ's finest album to date, their sound has matured into a full-flavored indy bliss. There's a dusty Americana throughout, with echoes of Wilco, Tom Waits and Dylan as well as melancholy touches a la The Cure, particularly in the vocals. Their sound builds on itself, giving way to beautiful crooners like Falling Into Itself and the incredibly delicate gem, Tiny Moving Parts. Stewart Mason of All Music Guide has no idea. IJ are on to something big here. In fact, for full liftoff spin it on your next road trip & time the expansive closer, Between the Days, to play just at daybreak. Feels like waking from a dream.
