Although they would be regarded by many as curious bedfellows, I found myself thinking of both Radiohead and The Smiths when playing this, although the female harmonies move it far more into dream pop. The arrangement is very clever in that the lack of percussion really moves the ear into the guitar and vocals, while the bass (when it is there) is nuanced and in the background, but highly effective as well. This is a very polished, somewhat languid, release which takes a while to get into the brain but certainly stays there.
If you’ve spent time in the unhurried world of New Zealand indie rock in the past couple of decades, you might find something comforting, almost familiar about the music of Wellington band Orangefarm. It strolls forth with a skipping beat, a propulsive guitar strum, a gentle toot of French horn, all suggesting we’re all headed off somewhere cross country.
But as the lilting tune and the his/hers harmonies take hold, it’s apparent there’s something thorny going on. The music often deftly wraps lyrical barbs in its pop hooks: bittersweet, literate touches and moments where the deceptively low-key music is a framework for complicated emotions and some cosmic ideas.