Sullivan and Gold’s album, For Foes, will come into its own this time of year. The Derry-based pair handcraft some lovely songs, attaching just enough tinsel and ribbons to make them seem as seasonal as cinnamon. It’s cold out there but these two will make the dark a little more bearable. Alongside Little Bear, they’re a long-term punt by their label, Smalltown America. Or at least, a long-term punt-stroke-safe bet.
Speaking of STA, they’ve also been responsible for Don’t Try, the comeback album from Jetplane Landing. A more striking contrast from Sullivan and Gold it would be hard to find. But what a great testament to the open-minded recruitment policy currently in operation in the northwest.
Malojian’s debut The Deer’s Cry was making an introduction this time last year, but it’s taken until now for it to be launched in the bells and whistles style. I’ve spoken at restraining-order length about this record, so shall remain brief and say only that the beautifully designed (by long-term collaborator, Mark Reihill) vinyl version would grace any turntable.
Documenta are a ticking time-bomb of self-destruction. Three albums, they’ve promised us, and then they’ll be saying their goodbyes. Number three (or, if you’re going to go by their own count-down labelling, number one) is currently being finished off. So, now’s as good a time as any to acquaint yourself with the previous two. Thankfully the music they’re making is as interesting as the concept underpinning it: ‘drone pop’ that draws you in before opening its arms for an all-enveloping embrace.
The Holy Innocents sound like the kind of band who should be busy. Letters From Lonely Ridge has been a long-time gestating – and all those years of rousing, carousing and stinkin' thinkin’ have resulted in a record of unlikely sentiment and heart. Some blinding tunes on it too.
Some lovely songs also on the Coney Island Sound (Klang) and Kowalski (For The Love of Letting Go) albums. Neither of which are remotely gloomy. Both of which, actually, could be profi tably prescribed to sufferers of seasonal affective disorder.
And then there’s Enturbulation = No Challenge, quite possible the most laughably neglected album of 2013. Yes, I know the disparity between the quality of their catalogue and the paucity of their profi le is all part of the Desert Hearts routine. But now – 10 years in and with easily the most user-friendly record of their career to date – the joke is starting to wear thin. Fans of this band, though, are a hardy, faith-driven bunch. Who knows: ‘Jesus Took LSD And Thought He Was Me’ could still make a late charge for the Christmas number one spot.