RSTB has seen Dylan Shearer's releases grow from a limited smattering you were lucky just to get your hands on to well supported full releases that brought him out of the shell of crate dug obscurity, if ever so slightly. Now Shearer has taken that evolution one step further by entering the studio and taking his home recorded whimsy to a larger scale with the addition of Petey Dammit (Thee Oh Sees) on bass and Noel von Harmonson (Comets on Fire) on drums. He's also got a producer in his corner this time 'round with the great Eric Bauer stepping behind the boards. All this change hasn't really altered Shearer's vision though. The tracks are certainly crisper, and fleshed out with the band pushing along behind him, but Shearer remains a songwriter for lonely Saturdays and lost lovers, his songs forever ringed in an ashen, cloudy hue. His soulful poetics, having long been compared here and elsewhere to Syd Barrett, Skip Spence and Kevin Ayers, still remain locked into a palpable sadness that seems to emanate from the very grooves of the record itself. Given a larger stage to croon from, Shearer still feels like he's locked in those same bedrooms and playing that same dusty corner lounge to barflies and drunks who feel a pang every time he hits their emotional nail on the head. And even with the added layer of production it still seems warranted to double check the date on the album, to combat the feeling that Shearer is playing these songs from across a span of decades pocked by emotional debris, still a voice out of time echoing on the wind.
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