Grouper: Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill (Type CD/LP/digital)
Now that I'm here in Portland I feel a certain default amount of solidarity with other Portland artists. It's sort of silly because I haven't met Liz Harris, but the songs on her fourth album as Grouper make her feel like an old friend. Her previous releases were generally awash in reverb and feedback, often sounding like they were recorded in a different room altogether from the source. Dragging A Dead Deer moves rather completely away from that, making Harris's guitar and voice more pronounced, less mysterious and otherworldly.
That is not to say that the twelve tracks that comprise this album don't have a certain je ne sais quoi about them... somehow in peeling back some of the layers, Harris is even more cryptic; she's not hiding under effects, but the obscurity of her words and voice remain just as powerful. I've listened to this album countless times and I barely can make out many of the lyrical content at all, even as her voice is significantly clearer. There are a few exceptions that fall back on the reverberation-laden sounds of yore, such as the title track and its skittery delay, the appropriately-named "Tidal Wave," and the ultra-dreamy opener, "Disengaged." My favorites are the stronger, more dynamic tracks that seem to have a more defined arc to them, such as "Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping" and "Fishing Bird." But the real success here is the way these more distinct "songs" so to speak work alongside more textural and ambient pieces such as "Wind And Snow," making this far less monochromatic than some of her previous output (even while that monochrome quality was a strength at the time).
It's sometimes stark and naked, sometimes more subtle, sometimes downright buried behind effects, but whatever the flavor of each respective track, nearly every one here is wonderful. Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill is a triumph through and through.
mp3s: Fishing Bird (Empty Gutted In The Evening Breeze) | Invisible
more info: Myspace | Anticon
buy it: Bent Crayon | Forced Exposure | Boomkat | Emusic | Amazon mp3