Lobes pleasured by the sounds resonating from the closely aligned camps of dream pop and shoegaze might want to investigate Jane’s Lament, the debut album by Au.Ra. While breaking new ground isn’t a priority and the peaks and valleys of quality are very much in evidence, the Sydney Australia duo’s solid execution could easily satisfy fans of the intersecting genres, and the fleeting strands of inspiration bode well for the future. It’s out this week on LP/CD/digital via the Felte label of Los Angeles, CA.
Tim Jenkins and Tom Crandles are responsible for Au.Ra, though the pair do employ some helping hands, mostly in the engineering and mixing departments. Both are guitarists, Jenkins having previously served in the Sydney band Parades as Crandles works under the moniker Colours (he also played bass in Ghostwood).
In 2013 Au.Ra issued a 7-inch on LebensStrasse Records, its two songs included on Jane’s Lament, though I’m uncertain if they are the same versions. The LP was produced by Jenkins and Crandles with the assistance of engineer and fellow Aussie Simon Todkill; the majority of the mix was by Nigel Yang of HTRK (two cuts were helmed by Aaron Cupples of Civil Civic).
In accord with the shoegaze paradigm, Au.Ra are specialists in guitar expansiveness, and many of the album’s tracks feature said instrumentation poised atop sampled drum loops. But filling out their sound are numbers of a more melodic nature that cultivate the dream pop side of the story. It’s a tale occasionally peppered with tasteful techno-synth attributes; nobody’s going to accuse them of raiding the bunkers of originality, but neither are they predictable, utilizing enough elements to bring range to the familiarity.
Setting the stage is “Morning,” which opens on a big if standard (and cymbal heavy) beat accented by pulsations of string ambiance. Brisk, simple bass enters soon after, effectively underpinning the unfolding guitar showcase. Like much of Au.Ra when in shoegaze mode the tune spreads out to over five minutes, though it smartly adjusts into a tuneful back half, soaring, leveling off, and then slowly fading out.
And “Sun,” which provided 50% of the aforementioned double-a-sided single, immediately establishes the poles of Au.Ra’s creativity. A glistening and layered pop equation, openly wielding technological sheen enhanced by the programmed rhythm, the tune is also more concise, and whereas the vocal in “Morning” is ultimately just one component in the soundscape, the singing in “Sun,” if sleepy, resides in the foreground.
Well done overall, yet I’ll admit to fancying the moments in Jane’s Lament privileging Ride over those conjuring The Stone Roses; however, “Pyramid” blends both sides of this scenario to produce one of the LP’s stronger entries. It’s speedier, though not exactly fast, and tangibly heavier if far from brutish. But while the beats beneath are effective they essentially glide on autopilot as the gleaming string tendrils burst forth.
This rhythmic circumstance isn’t harmful as much as it simply limits certain tracks, a result partially intensified by the presence of two tracks later in the sequence making use of live drumming. But in other instances the synthetic template is an essential part of the weave. Such is the case with “You’re on My Mind,” an unabashedly poppy selection brandishing a livelier, almost trip-hoppy line and marries it to washes of synth and some of the record’s sturdier bass playing.
The mild rewards of “You’re on My Mind” do receive points for a nifty and totally non-telegraphed false ending. But considerably more interesting is “Juki,” a roughly one minute slice of rippling techno; its only limitation is that it’s so fragmentary; instead of lending a prelude to a longer track, it ends side one of Jane’s Lament.
The flip raises the bar somewhat. The attractive amp racket at the beginning of “Spare the Thought” leads into familiar but vibrant shoegaze territory; the vocals are again drowsy as they flaunt an undercurrent of the emphatic, and the cut concludes on a fairly noisy note. That it’s the 7-inch’s other a-side emphasizes Au.Ra’s desire to spotlight the breadth of their abilities, and “Spare the Thought” only increases in quality through the use of a flesh and blood timekeeper.
But in truth, the benefits eclipse the mere keeping of time. “Talk Show” consecutively highlights James West’s contribution in the drummer’s seat, the song’s pop inclination deepened by the human touch behind the kit, the playing (mingling with additional percussion) particularly worthwhile across the extended instrumental mid-section.
At the risk of coming off like a goddamned Luddite, I’d counsel Jenkins and Crandles to tap West’s talents for later endeavors, at least when the knob is tuned to shoegaze. But hey, Au.Ra and Felte didn’t ask for advice but rather a review; the job here is to comment on what they did do and not what they should’ve done.
And my suggestion frankly doesn’t apply to the dream pop milieu of “Ease,” which makes good use of its drum loop as combined with a vibe vaguely synth-pop, initially not terribly far from the work of Aussie cohort Laura Hill aka Scraps, though it’s not as off-center; Au.Ra, here and elsewhere, is basically a straightforward duo, and this propels “Ease” in lingering a bit too long, a problem that thankfully waited until the penultimate entry to assert itself.
Did I describe Jane’s Lament as not off-center? The exception proving the rule is “Width,” the album’s closer an abstract tech-doodle that reminds me a tad of biding time in a futuristic depot with a ceaselessly undulating robot companion. The bleeps, bloops, and gauzy air are also reminiscent of the discursive finales of numerous indie/alt recordings circa the ‘90s.
That period serves as the breadbasket of Au.Ra’s muse, but in a positive twist they avoid the frequently grueling running-times of the compact disc-era, offering up a digestible 36 minutes. And in summation, the disc harkens back to the days when acts regularly issued modest debuts to hopefully be improved upon through subsequent efforts.
The recurring hitch with the inaugural big-splash is that few recipients of such lavish attention ever endure the pressure to build on the bountiful early success; bluntly, Au.Ra is so indebted to precedent, a marketplace blitz isn’t in the cards. But that’s a perfectly fine state of affairs, for Jane’s Lament holds promise moving forward.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
