October 6, 2012
The White Album are firm favourites of SGTMT. Partly because they have amazing beards but mostly because they’re purveyors of some of the finest progressive folk known to folk kind. Back last month we stated the following:
Their sound boasts the rare quality of being warmly intimate and affectionate and yet within a framework of cavernous, wintry melancholy; like hot chocolate round a forest campfire on a cold winters evening.
I’m proud of that quote. Every now and again the I ink the pen and words flow like crystallized drips of honey soaked genius onto the pages of SGTMT. Let’s talk more about me. Let’s spend some time reflecting on my superior blogmanship. Wait, what’s that you say? You’re hear to listen to the music and you don’t give a small selection of Tesco value assorted toffees for my inane self aggrandising drivel? Oh. Ok.
The White Album’s mini album (confused? Me too) is called Conquistador and is mightily fine. We’ve already introduced you to Counting Treasures but the pleasures don’t end there. Seventeen captures the optimistic teenage longings of future satisfaction. The short track Trenches is a sad, harmonic number; think the Beach Boys after a bottle of Absinth and an evening touring French war cemeteries.
The albums joys continue unabated from there. The gear doesn’t change, there is no ‘kick on’ or climactic moment but that really makes no difference. It’s splendid, just splendid. And thanks to the wonders of the new age of digital delights, you can enjoy a full streaming version of the album here:
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