| Reba
Hasko |
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We are lulled in gently with the marginally ominous but lullaby dominated ‘Here’s How’, which gives rapid ground to the fully electronic orchestration of ‘Drifting to the Veil’. The acerbic ‘Death by Facelift’, with its pained syllables and despairing narrative, stands in stark, twisted contrast to the echoing void of ‘Shoo Fly’, a track backed only by handclaps, analogue clicks and what sounds suspiciously like a tap dancer, which in turn entwines unfamiliar hands with the dirty, electronic |
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| explosion of ‘Heat. Electricity. Wire’. Anticipation builds, but the best has already been. Sadly for an album that promises so much from the outset, ‘Seeds from the Twisted Pear’ culminates in a disappointing squelch rather than a resounding roar, with down-beat numbers ‘Ricci’ and ‘Music for A Painter, I’ feeling rushed, and falling far short of the early, inventive melee. Inventive and experimental to a fault, Hasko treads the narrow way shared instrumentally by female avant-pop innovators such as Bats for Lashes and Joanna Newsom, but so mixed is this offering that it is difficult to grasp the intricacies of any one track before its successor tears the carefully set scene from under you. The minimal and the overstated jostle, the impact of each diminished by its forced proximity to the other. Standing as a talent ‘sampler’ this release showcases great inspiration, but less than rigorous quality control, the great songs truly great, the disappointing tracks feeling unnecessarily included and lending a slightly sour tinge to the whole affair. Review
by Carla Washborne |
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