With an opener that materializes like the love poetry written by the fairies of Bjork’s Vespertine for the boys in American Football (labelmates of Aloha), Sugar has set itself up for an anti-climax. How pleasantly surprising, then, to see the record traverse an eerie sonic spectrum with consummate ease and elegance. Aloha are a band in the truest sense of the word. Their combined presence is never oppressive, and they feel like a singular organic entity — one that reminds me of a million things but feels derivative of none of them.
Aloha’s music is… well, there isn’t really a genre for it. It’s alternative. There are traces of rock, emo, folk, and even ambient music thrown in. If you like anything on Polyvinyl, you’ll like this. It’s a summer, 2 a.m. record — sitting on a porch, something cold in hand, cracks of exhaustion filling your head, and the dark purple colors in the sky fighting with each other. It’s one of those “not realy articulatable in words” records. In other words, it’s damn good.
Polyvinyl Records: http://www.polyvinylrecords.com