And it seems fitting to post this here after Crayon Fields because The Moles were among the forerunners for all this stuff and have a new record out now, their first in twenty years. Or really for Richard Davies their frontman for whom:
'The Moles is a fitting incognito pseudonym nom de guerre make believe disguise cloak for most of the musical ideas I get. The album has accumulated over many years. I recorded in Boston, New York and Western Massachusetts when ideas and opportunities came along. It is almost like a journal covering 15 years.'
It's an instant classic. A document, not only of Davies's life but also of a certain kind of guitar pop sensibility. Deeply familiar of course to anybody with a record collection populated by Byrds, Syd Barrett Floyd, Who, Big Star, Television, Wire, Go Betweens, Chills, Guided by Voices and The Moles themselves. This is beautiful, crafted, loving and occasionally surpisingly fierce music. And sometimes something odder, the sound of middle aged life passing by. Twenty four tracks in all but it's well worth taking the whole journey. It's like a hymn of praise to a fair portion of my record collection. Certainly to some of its most treasured moments. As The Guardian review says 'defiant eulogies to the thrill of loud, exhilarating, transportive pop.'
Already one of my albums of the year after a couple of times listening to it right the way through this morning. There are songs on here every bit as good as the very best produced by the list of greats above. A truly wondrous work!
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