Cuneifrom Tabs, Big City, Ears

Quickly on the heels of their startling self-titled debut, Cuneiform Tabs return with an album that takes a massive leap forward in both melodic sensibilities and inventiveness. Bathed in late night psychedelia, their experimental penchant remains, but this time it is wrapped around tunes too sweet to be denied. In pulling back a little of the crackle and haze that made their first recordings so inviting, they have revealed more of their pop instincts. Content to let a picked acoustic guitar stand alone like a Vashti Bunyan home recording, or sit deep in the looping repetition of a drone sample, like a bedroom My Bloody Valentine, the overall effect is of a perfect set of early Animal Collective demos or Cleaners From Venus attempting a Jackson C. Frank cover on just the right quaaludes.

The duo of Matt Bieyle and Sterling Mackinnon continue their system of trading songs back and forth across the Atlantic. A furtive correspondence between the Bay Area and the UK building and layering and peeling and blurring as they grab whatever instrument is needed until these perfect little sonic nuggets are fully formed. These songs are very much the product of the Tascam and rudimentary software that is integral to the band, but this album is truly the embrace of their melodic songwriting talents, not unlike the recent breakthrough of labelmate Cindy Lee.

This is the record Bob Pollard hears in his head every time he heads down to the basement to pick up a guitar. This is the sound of riding in an elevator hearing McCartney singing “Blackbird” in the distance, only to have it draw closer and closer with each floor as you finally race down the hallway, putting your ear to each door searching for the source. This is Leonard Cohen smoking in the middle of the street outside of a Suicide show. If all of this sounds amazing, it is.

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