Midway through the week, this appeared in my inbox. I’ve played it through a few times now and each time it’s willingly yielded something I hadn’t heard on prior listens. The record is called Watercolours by Melbourne’s Mechanical Pterodactyl. The email I received was filled with words (pretty stock standard) telling me things (not unusual again) about the album. One such thing was that it was a home recording, which if you’d care to click play on either of these two tracks right here, seems entirely bizarre. I can possibly see this being a truth if it was recorded by a sound engineer residing in a live-in recoding studio. That would make sense to me.
Tap into your biggest, best emotions and let that ‘Watercolours’ bassline tenderly massage your feeling caves open again, ensuring that you’re properly equipped with appropriately flavoured soothers to mellow that red and inflamed throat, the product of your fetal position, sob inducing, three minute forty soul exploration. Let it all out big guy, there you go. You’re free at last, winter came too fast, something something something.
How’s that digital Berlin Wall track though, right? It’s like a slow-motion Caribbean Gang of Four nailing harmonies for the first time. Nailing though. Nailing them. The whole record has a tendency to overindulge in hyper-emotion but I can forgive that given the prevailing quality of the tunes. Listen to the whole album through, this isn’t a hear-one-heard-’em-all situation. Record here, Facebook here, pizza here.
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