Black vinyl press.
Late-in-the-day album of the year contender? Very possibly. Or possibly it's just that this is the kind of music that appeals to my sensibilities so exactly it feels laser-guided in its execution. Perfect, even. The San Fran four-piece led by the lightning rod of charm that is Karina Gill channel a very specific kind of minimal indiepop that seems to distill the very best elements of dreampop, indierock and sensitive C86/Sarah outsiderdom into their very own emotionally-rich, yet excess-free, language. Imagine a Galaxie 500 stripped to the bone and combined with the personality of Algebra Suicide's Lydia Tomkiw and you're only halfway to understanding what's being divined from the ether here. Gill is possessed of that always winning ability to add repeatedly killer turns of phrase to a unique melodicism, each song a tiny observational vignette misted over with a very distinct poetic voice. These are songs about real life relateable things - specific relationships, interactions, desires, longing - yet remain inherently mysterious, each minute narrative a window into a bigger, alluring world just out of reach. On CSI: Creeptown, Gill sings "there’s nothing worse in life than to always be right". She might just have to learn to live with being just that. For those of a particular sensitivity, San Fran is a kind of secret hot bed of unreal good music right now - Reds, Pinks & Purples, The Umbrellas, April Magazine - and with Free Advice Cindy might have just revealed it to the rest of the world.
