A record like this always sounds as though it belongs to a room full of neon lights, smoke, and half-faded memories. There's always something lingering just beneath the surface and it's never quite pretty, but it's always engaging: just like a dirty secret. These are the first images that come to mind when I hear the slinky guitars, winding percussion, and the organic production. Having an organic sound is the best way to describe each track on Jealousy and Diamond: guitars fade into and out of each other, strange and warm hums permeate each instance of every sound, and the percussion more or less blurs the line between melodic and completely percussive instruments.Kranky
The names Martin Brandlmayer, Werner Dafeldecker, and Dean Roberts have been popping up quite a lot, lately. They are names I have come to associate with excellent music and while they haveve been playing together in various forms for some time now, this is the first record where they've come together as true trio. Their time together has obviously benefitted them as a band. The vocals are, for the most part, submerged in the radiation of the music; they are present but almost entirely indistinct. The sound of Roberts' voice only adds to the ghostly signature written all over the album. A track like "In Your Absence from the Street" illustrates the way sounds become more like wisps of smoke with Autistic Daughters than anything else. The drums quietly pop and rustle beneath the rumble of the bass and the ceaseless rolling of strings buzzing and guitars lighting themselves on fire and burning in slow motion. The album is deceptively diverse and doesn't rely on any one formula to carry itself from beginning to end. "The Glasshouse and the Gift-Horse" sounds as though it's going to slide by without a hint of resistance before a wind picks up and sends the whole song tumbling through the air, moaning and turning at the will of shaking guitars and stuttering drums. All the music sounds drunk. It's as though it's rumbling backwards through time in an attempt to find out how the hell everything went so long. It's depressing and forlorn, but not desperate. The contemplative edge it exhibits is almost disturbing in and of itself - the essence of each song is voyeuristic and careful. Perhaps Roberts has some demons he wants to exercise without letting everyone see them. Whatever the case, the trance-like glow surrounding this album (it being a result of the excellent music within) is addicting. The slow pace and easy resignation that sits at its heart sound beautiful, if not just slightly uneasy and sad.
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