Third repress - strictly one per customer!
Back again due to popular demand, what might be the most Stroom-like of all Stroom records, a past-alive-inside-the-present opus that presents a contemporary understanding of the unremembered European 80s aesthetic the label has been mapping out for a decade now. In short, Leave Another Day sounds a lot like an archive Stroom release that is in fact a frontline Stroom release. I'm not sure where exactly that sits in the pop-will-eat-itself dialectic, but it is at least an interesting scenario. If Milan Warmoeskerken is a new name to you, also be aware that there's a fairly substantial history of tapes, CD-rs and 7"s under his own name and as Crumar Young that have led to this moment, a long-standing working-away-at the type of greyscale mystical European romanticism you might invariably associate with Factory Benelux, Les Disques Crepuscule, Exart et al. Warmoeskerken styles himself in the sage cafe crooner mould, a hybridised re-gen of Lee Hazelwood, Dean Blunt and Lawrence (Deebank-era Felt only) caught in the amniotic fuzz of heartbreak's eternal scree. Yes, this is morose business, but it's supremely stylish too, dripping in the elegance of the infinite weltschmerz. I'll probably take some heat for this, but it also reminds me a great deal of Mac DeMarco's debut EP, back when he wore eyeliner and before we knew he was a slob. Make of that comparison what you will, but it's also likely the reason Leave Another Day is catching the imagination as it is. European lovesick core has its new poster boy.
