minute-long track. "The Garden of Celine Remembrance" sounds like it
has been delivered by short-wave radio - coming from far away but with endearing
warmth, picking a pop tune out of the fuzz as it goes."
I don't think I have ever heard a band that know how to use the colours of lo-fi sound as well as Alex and Dominique have done.
'Tiny pop' is right enough. Everything sounds so small - even the fuzzed-up guitars sound like they are playing through amps the size of sugarcubes. It sounds like music made by little munchkins that live between the grooves of records.
It deftly side-steps lo-fi/slowcore clichés with twee pop that isn't twee, Trumpton guitars, cavemen playing a toy drumkit, the odd medieval chant and a song that ends when a phone rings during the recording. Amazing stuff.
One of my albums of the year."
However, after numerous spins, the appeal of "The Need" becomes more obvious. The quality of the song writing is usually of a very high standard. The male/female vocals add even greater diversity to what is already an eclectic collection of songs, which could sound disjointed and out of place together. The mood can change from distorted power pop (Telephone Song) to haunting acoustic folk (Trees & Rain) and songs which start quietly and build up to a fuzzy peak, before descending in a collage of feedback (Chains). The reason this album does not sound disjointed is largely due to the deliberate presence of the clicks and hiss, which bring cohesion to this collection of songs.
Sometimes however, Thee Moths go over the top, especially during the last four bleak and slightly disturbing tracks, which add nothing to the record for me except a feeling of anti-climax.
The beauty in these songs is usually buried deep underneath several layers of tape hiss and feedback. To begin with "The Need" can appear to be nearly impenetrable, but those who make the effort to listen beyond surface sounds are rewarded with a genuinely "tiny pop" experience.
La Realistica gives Thee Moths
7.5/10