|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
LP
|
|
QUI 019LP
|
$29.50
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 5/9/2025
Emerging from the Minneapolis underground and heading straight towards the sky, IE arrive on Quindi with a full-length album of sparkling, sophisticated wonder. Touching on kosmische grandeur, Riley-esque cyclical patterns, lounge pop and dubbed out psychedelia, the five-piece allow their songs to unfurl with a natural, hypnotic elegance which can take many different forms. There's a loose, live quality to the recordings IE's members commit to record, which reflects their steady presence gigging in Minneapolis and the surrounding area. Since putting out their first release in 2016, they've glided from drone and synth-led jam band ambience (2018's Pome) to strung out, stoner-tinted slowcore (on 2023's outstanding Junk Body). For Reverse Earth they strike a smoky note that wraps itself around your skull across extended run times that evolve with a meditative poise. From the deceptively driving 4/4 thrum of the opening title track through "Divination Bag"'s snaking tryptamine mantras on to "Simplify"'s slow and smoldering indie-soul, IE's sound is bathed in a sumptuous warm glow that rounds out the lows and the mids, creating a nocturnal shroud in which their nebulous song structures can feel deliciously endless. Meredith Gill's drums provide rolling and tumbling undercurrents for the slowly shifting phases of the instrumental players, as Michael Gallope and Travis Workman trade keyboard parts and Workman and Sam Molstad chop and pick at their six-strings. Atop the thrum of her bass, Mariel Oliviera's vocal adapts to the scenery, from a distant, dreamlike siren song on "Reverse Earth" to a spoken word meditation on "Babel." There's space in each track for every instrument to cut through and have its moment, from a spiraling key vamp to a chicken-scratch guitar flex. The gently twisting, head-feeding groove exercises of the first four tracks give way to a slow and powerful march on "Dark Rome," closing the record on a noirish anti-ballad fit to peal out in the closing slot at Twin Peaks' Roadhouse (circa season three). As much as the tracks teem with composition, musicianship, and production to savor, a sound like IE's has a soporific quality that soaks in unconsciously. It's an evocative portal where the band feel as if they could just play on each piece ad infinitum -- where the time itself seems to dislodge from its moorings.
|