Reed and Garbes slip back in the lab for another strange and frothy take on noise, drone and the scalp scraped memories of music boxes churned through lawnmowers in the distance. The opening séance gives way to a delicate bubbling that flickers through the murk like loops of sunrise on faded Super 8. The album acts as a perfect companion piece to Dream, folding refracted squelch further through a pop ripple and squeezing it until it seems to be laughing as much as it's writhing. But where its predecessor floated in and out of a sleepy haze, Glass Fountain builds up a steady stream of tin soldier beats to propel its glazed pop gyrations, making it seem like the daytime equivalent to the former's dream torn night. The further they delve into the persona of Wet Hair the more they seem to be finding a real voice and Glass Fountain is by far the most interesting and engaging album they've done yet. Slotting themselves into a class right alongside Cameron Stallones' Sun Araw as a new frontrunner in drone-psych bliss.
[MP3] Wet Hair - Stepping Razor (to Heaven's Door)
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