Dream pop, shoegaze and alternative with a pinch of trip hop as a yearning “love letter to 90s radio„: Crushed collect the singles released since last October and add three new songs to the EP Extra Life.
The Anachronism of Singer Bre Morell (Temple of Angels) and hobbyist Shaun Durkan (Weekend) is admittedly a bit cheesy, sounding Waterlily or (that intoned by Durkan) Coil Exhilarated, driving and with a rocking trait, associatively a little bit like coming of age queen Ethel Cain with implied Snow Patrol-Tunes the baggy theme song for a Dawson’s Creek-Spin of have included (which here and there obviously only understandable comparisons to Morcheeba and Slowdive wakes up).
But the result is ultimately convincing like a Guilty Pleasure hodgepodge from the time tunnel, which unfolds its bittersweet stringency in a spherical and elegiac, even relaxed, unobtrusive and subversively reserved manner, allowing the gracefulness with soft, sparkling guitars to blur in a warm nostalgia, whose melancholic drive with ambient seams interwoven in the sound installation Lorica flow.
During the highlight Milksugar the trip hop comes out in a bass-heavy way, Bedside withdrawn grooves or Respawn laid out even more calmly and simply pleasantly beguiling is the stylistic spectrum of Extra Life despite a changeable dynamic, it may be quickly developed, but actually not as simple as it might seem at first glance: As the corresponding merch of the duo reveals, the songs are from Crushed also created from a three-digit flood of samples, which, however, beyond the associative moment, result in more than the sum of their parts and function more imaginatively, vaguely referentially, than actually quoting.
Quite symbolic for the only supposedly intrusive, kitschy nature of Extra Lifewhich, in all its immanent spirit of optimism and modest gesture, is at the latest through the hopeless romanticism (“When we walk together/ Every moment feels like heaven/ …/ Been wandering lost for years on end/ But when you look at me I am home again“) or heartache (“I fear there’s no way up from where we are/ But something’s there and it makes me want to try/ Let’s pretend for one more night’) despite (or perhaps because of?) the cheesiness can be downright disarming.
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