It sounds like a battle, and surely one that the odds would be pitted against our now LA based experimental art folk duo. But the title is a misnomer, this isn’t a competition, High Places have actively opened the door and let all of the messy bits of mankind flow into their sounds, all of the beauty and the detritus of modern society synthesized into one unique sound. It’s their second album and everything feels much more defined, there’s a certain clarity, or perhaps sense of purpose within their strange semi electronic amorphous pulses. It feels like everything but the kitchen sink has been sucked into these endearing little swirls that bubble around the repetitive drum machine beats. It’s a strange rickety, almost accidental form of DIY dance music that owes possibly more to folk and experimental music than the dance-floor. Then there’s these little fragments that they’ve co opted from a more conventional world, some discerning use of funky guitar strumming totally transforms many of the tracks here, drawing associations as diverse as disco or even 80’s pop. Mary Pearson’s voice whilst still treated is no longer such an ill defined cloud that floats almost disinterested across proceedings, now she has body and feeling, her vocals now actively directing the songs. It’s fascinating hearing this band develop. Possibly the strangest thing here is that there are definite pop hits, tunes like the slacker funk of the opener The Longest Shadows and the ramshackle shimmering Constant Winter that in a post Animal Collective world is actually cohesive enough to get the kids jumping. Yet you get the feeling that this is only the beginning for High Places, and these pop gestures are weird and fragmented enough that you never have to entertain any thoughts of artistic compromise.
Bob Baker Fish
