You know when you're on your third listen of a record, it has to be good. I just feel ignorant for letting it sit in a pile on my desk for so long. Honestly, I think it's been here since May, the new Desolation Wilderness album, New Universe. It would've been perfect on the We Be Grilling mix I put together when I was at home for the birthday this past Memorial Day. The album is like the soundtrack for a humid day all aglow in the hazy sunshine: the guitars shimmer through murky pastures, the passages of vocals buried deep in the mix like someone telling a lovelorn tale from the bottom of the sea floor. Think of the Crystal Stilts taking a vacation on the west coast, visiting a Santa Monica pier by way of Olympia. Think of a just as immediate version of The Tyde, yet there's more of a bonfire vibe than a hang ten surfer dude mantra about this record.
Ane Brun sounds like a Scandinavian folk fairy, or a Dolly Parton and Bjork collaboration. She's been doing good in Scandinavia, with her recently released "Changing of the Seasons" album entering the Scandinavian charts at #1. Her guitar picks while her voice zithers like an autoharp, and critics are praising her girlish but strong tone. There's sincerity in every rise and fall of her voice, and despite their austerity, the instruments that play behind her sound almost strange and foreign to what you might normally hear but amazing melodic and comforting.
Her video for "The Puzzle" plays like a Terrence Malick film. There are well-directed shots of wheat grass by the shore, quaking waters, and a broken guitar with missing strings. All the while, Ane Brun's voice plays in the background with such vocal and lyrical expression that you feel like you're listening to musical folklore.
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You know when you're on your third listen of a record, it has to be good. I just feel ignorant for letting it sit in a pile on my desk for so long. Honestly, I think it's been here since May, the new Desolation Wilderness album, New Universe. It would've been perfect on the We Be Grilling mix I put together when I was at home for the birthday this past Memorial Day. The album is like the soundtrack for a humid day all aglow in the hazy sunshine: the guitars shimmer through murky pastures, the passages of vocals buried deep in the mix like someone telling a lovelorn tale from the bottom of the sea floor. Think of the Crystal Stilts taking a vacation on the west coast, visiting a Santa Monica pier by way of Olympia. Think of a just as immediate version of The Tyde, yet there's more of a bonfire vibe than a hang ten surfer dude mantra about this record. 
