What would happen if the Cure were to be put on some sort psychiatric medication? I'm not really sure to be honest, but they might actually sound happier and if they didn't they might sound like Swedish band Jeniferever whose album Spring Tides has just been released.
Spring Tides is an epic ethereal record that sounds as if it's been intercepted by the SETI project as a transmission from another galaxy. The songs that make up this masive ten track opus rarely dip below five minutes and sound like shimmering beacons of noise that are like sadcore songs layered on top of dream pop and shoegazing sagas from the great beyond. It's truly beautiful stuff that's hypnotizingly exquisite and fragile and demonstrates what you can do with a few guitars and an arsenal of pedals.
A song like "St. Gallen," for example sounds as if the cascading waves of processed guitars are the glue holding the song together. It's as though the song could fall apart at any moment into a million notes never to sound the same again. Thankfully, it manages to stays together just long enough for us to be given a divine slice of pop that's delicately delightful.
In thinking about it, much of Spring Tides is like that. It's all very wispy, barely there and could almost disappear back into the ether as easily as it appeared in the first place. It's that sense of frailty that makes this record such a joy to listen to. Jeniferever have created something that's as brittle as it is fascinating with Spring Tides. By simply taking several genres that are inherently that way and mixing them together and then adding a dash of the Cure for good measure, Jeniferever have come up with a record that's so good it might just move you to tears.
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