Aliens

Dublin guitarist Owensie (real name Michael Owens) has been writing music in his home town for a good many years now, but no noise that came before sounded anything like debut album Aliens. Earlier bands Puget Sound and Terrordactyl emitted a hefty, experimental din (the latter featured members of math rockers Adebisi Shank), but nowadays you’re more likely to find Owensie gingerly strumming a flamenco guitar.
At this point, I should probably throw down a few sentences questioning this dramatic flip in style, or pondering the punk undertones of his toque. Thankfully, this kind of guesswork becomes redundant once you’re about halfway through the record. Not only does Owensie seem unshakably comfortable in the role of acoustic troubadour, but to hear him perform these songs with such ease suggests he could probably turn his thumb to any kind of songwriting in the book.
Everything about Aliens suggests José González is an influence – the swelling rhythms, the delicate strings, the understated vocal. You may be thinking that a 38-minute ‘Killing For Love’ is more acoustic fingerpickery than you can handle, but Mr. Owens is no copycat. The sleepiness of the melodies makes González a handy reference point, but not the definitive one.
The wordless ‘Dark Place’, for example, chimes with a Bossa Nova swing that could have come from the pen of the legendary Antônio Carlos Jobim, (and I don’t drop the name Jobim often, you hear?) The lushest track on the whole album, it ends with some echoey harmonies and a ‘50s piano flourish. Whatever about the title, to me, this is a very light place.
The second clear stand-out is ‘Cat And Mouse’ – a sullen chronicle of a group of tragic characters meeting their maker. It’s hugely memorable and every bit as wistful as the sweetest of Sufjan Stevens numbers.
The other seven tracks never quite reach these dizzying heights, but there’s still plenty to enjoy: ‘Lonely Wood’ has a tentative charm and ‘Cruel Time’ is hushed and lovely. ‘Ronda’ sees Owensie hold back on the vocal and allow his instrument stretch its legs, while title track ‘Aliens’ features some ominous strings.
For all its Latin American kicks, there’s still a drop of Irish blood in the Dubliner’s debut – Owensie’s accent filters through in parts, and it’s easy to imagine a tune like ‘Tied To A Name’ coming from the lips of either Moore brother (Christy or Barry).
That said, Aliens is still going to resonate most with fans of flamenco, bossa and Spanish rock. It’s also unlikely to convert any non-believers to the church of lo-fi, but that’s hardly the point. Whether or not we understand its roots, the record is what it is – a peaceful album to fall asleep to, and what’s more, an exciting one to wake up with.