Grouper

Its hard not to be excited for a new set of Grouper songs, even if they are technically an old set of Grouper songs. Liz Harris recorded the bulk of this album on an upright piano in Aljezur, Portugal in 2011 with the final track reaching back to 2004, a recording she made at her mother's. The thing about Harris' half-remembered dream albums and her laudanum odes is that they all seem plucked just from the moment you smell the smoke of that cigarette beginning to catch the bedspread on fire. If Carbon Monoxide poisoning were a genre then a good chunk of her discography would fit snuggly in that box but its nice to hear her dissipate some of the haze this time. She's still wafting through the halls of infinite sleep, but now the clouds have lifted enough for Harris' voice to ring through; with just the dusk-light plunks of piano tethering it to land. Ruins has a rainy day at the shore quality to it, as if each note were just another raindrop in wet sand and in that, it remains gloomily comforting. Its Grouper cut to her very core, and at that core Harris still remains able to wither the staunchest detractors with a quaver of her voice.

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