The duo that make up the band, singer Anna Jeter and Kevin Christopher work from a simple formula. Gentle, almost whispered vocals and percolating synth and guitar patterns. There's an inspired tranquility here which goes some way towards explaining why in times of stress or anxiety you're well advised to make your way to your local swimming baths.
The water thing is clearly a quite conscious effect on the part of the record's makers judging by the tiles embossed on the sleeve of Cosine, (I wonder whether they resisted the temptation to call the record Chlorine instead). In any case you're protected from stinging eyes by the deft weightlessness that's maintained throughout its ten brief but lingering tracks. Aural goggles.
Reference points are often negligible, but they can help explain a record's allure. In this case I was reminded of Martin Rev of Suicide's most celestial moments as well as the jazzy grace of Yo La Tengo. But Cosine calmly swims out to its own space, though you might occasionally think of long gone Eighties synth pop records, this is no nostalgia exercise. An album of calm enchantment.
Reference points are often negligible, but they can help explain a record's allure. In this case I was reminded of Martin Rev of Suicide's most celestial moments as well as the jazzy grace of Yo La Tengo. But Cosine calmly swims out to its own space, though you might occasionally think of long gone Eighties synth pop records, this is no nostalgia exercise. An album of calm enchantment.
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