lIstening to Foel Tower seems to be adjusting an old weathered radio. Applying patience and focus will pay off. In this second album, the experimental Bristol four-piece quad becomes the virtue of a slow build. Bernie Matthews’ Basie, inexplicable vocals, buried under trembling cymbals, fierce bass in the gut and static blasts, with most lyricism left in the twist, pain and blissful violins of multi-letterist Tom Connolly.
Like their labelmates Moine Those who describe themselves as “post-what” will discard the classic band format for a more organic and intuitive approach. The Canadian Goose starts with simple, strumming acoustic guitars and a near quarter detail. It’s a soft rattle that could turn into a distant bird’s chirping or a washing machine. This intimacy melts into a grand, threatening post-lock as Matt Griffith’s electronics and Leo Finni’s echoes, and the distance drums build muscle. “I’ll kill them all,” Matthews mutters that Connolly’s string is barely identifiable.
Painting from folk, jazz, ambient and doom and inspired by the tension between industry and nature, the album was made in Welsh’s Elan Valley (mid album instrumental highlights the judges of Nanasganor like a low-flying helicopter, and titles it after the building of Gahler-de-Zoovoor. There is a literary reference (Le Guin, Yeats, Thomas) buried in The Murk, with mystical media samples (probably from the headspace of a meditation app, and an unnamed actor) falling apart, but Foel Tower is not a concept album. Its six tracks are searched and emotional, not the head, but the mind-guided. With a satisfying verdict, Quad makes the music to speak to your body first, then your imagination.
