The music stops and I hear girls talking outside on the street. A car pulls up, blaring MOR pop-house. The engine whirs and the tyres crunch gravel. I remember about going out tonight.
The Dust Collectors had taken me away from everything for about 15 minutes and for that, I thank them. Music should elevate the spirit and flood the conscious. There’s a lot of futile chasing after great sounds. The Dust Collectors make great sounds.
Here’s how: you take Jerry Hope, a Scots poet who blows flugelhorn and reminds you of the power of the spoken word. You back him up with a rhythm section who can play wild, stuttering, rapidly shifting patterns when necessary and let them roll, whilst Hope roars dark lyrics and pumping, overdriven organ
Then, you do flamenco-style acoustic guitars and have someone tap-dance behind it, allowing the music of the speaking voice to dominate the foreground. You sample cars, children’s voices, back yourself with a female singer possessed of pure tone and who can sing operatically, if necessary.
You give yourself options. You have a musician in the band, Lorin Halsall, who’s a free radical. You enjoy experimenting in the studio, because it allows you to create dense, multi-layered songs of great depth, which reward repeat listens. Music to be explored. You make music to relax to, music to dance to, music to go crazy to and music to think to and put it all on the same disc.
Rare is a record which can recall Miles Davis at his most experimental and the Super Furry Animals at their most soulful and rootsy within minutes of each other. Rare is a record with this much warmth, intelligence, playfulness and humanity. You have it all, the Dust Collectors. I salute you. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com.