Northampton, MA’s Sore Eros began stirring up a psych-laden yet songlike haze a little over a decade ago, and they persisted with a steady flow of material on a variety of formats and labels, at least until roughly five years back. Formed and led by Robert Robinson, the band, which includes members Adam Langellotti and Jeff Morkeski, has been working on their latest release across the intervening time; exuding considerable depth of motion while avoiding the overworked, it’s a winner. Featuring guest contributions from Daniel Oxenberg (formerly of Supreme Dicks) and Kurt Vile, the Adam Granduciel-produced 45 rpm 2LP is out January 10 in a slim edition of 200 copies through Feeding Tube Records.
Sore Eros debuted with an earlier self-titled CD in 2003, a 50-copy edition followed the next year by three tracks on Light Dead Sea Volume One, a CDR compilation corralling soon-to-be heavy-hitters Ariel Pink, Kurt Vile, and Gary War (who, like Vile, figures as a contributor to the Some Eros saga). However, per leader Robinson, the Sore Eros scenario, then based in Connecticut, didn’t really “become good” until Langellotti entered the scene and they cut Second Chants in 2008.
If I’d heard this early material, I might beg to differ with Robinson’s assessment, but I haven’t so I can’t. I do possess some familiarity with Second Chants, and I’ll concur that by that point they’d indeed gotten good and were occasionally even a little better. The productivity since hasn’t derailed the positive growth, though in terms of profile beyond the contempo psych u-ground, they are primarily known for sharing two split releases with Mr. Vile.
The Sore Eros sides of the untitled 9-inch from 2013 and the “Jamaica Plain” 10-inch from the next year are mighty fine, but for those seeking a quick kernel of knowledge into the band’s thing prior to grabbing a copy of their new one (for it won’t be around long), I’d recommend checking Second Chants, or 2010’s Know Touching (both on SHDWPLY Records), or the superb “Just Fuzz” 12-inch from 2011 (on Blackburn Recordings) or their last effort before this one, Say People from 2015 (on Feeding Tube), which was one long track broken over two sides and accompanied by a VHS tape.
The often collage-like progressions of Say People serve to soundtrack the visual assortment from various sources found on the videocassette and document Sore Eros at their farthest out, though it’s really more about sustained drift than any kind of raw disruptiveness. Still, if a long time in the making (which is partly due to the geographical spreading out of the membership), the new record doesn’t build upon the expansive largeness of the last one, instead favoring songs, an approach that largely comprises the prior output listed above.
And as the songs on Sore Eros maintain such a high standard, there isn’t an inkling of backsliding (furthermore, to be accurate, there are numerous tuneful moments across Say People, as well). That the high quality of these nine selections is the byproduct of an engineer-producer’s seat warmed-up by The War on Drugs’ Adam Granduciel helps situate this album as a leap forward in overall audiophile value and with song construction to match, aspects made immediately and abundantly clear in the touches of lushness, instrumental sharpness and general vividness of opener “Backseat Bop.”
There’s also a sweet tempo change for the quick that underscores the combo’s core togetherness. “Out of Phase” cultivates a slower pace but spikes it with some guitar textures both underwater-ish and fuzzed-out, and that’s cool. Even cooler is the folk-tinged strum of “Tree Vole,” which brings elements (e.g. tape speed manipulations) reinforcing the comparison to fellow New England psych warrior Bobb Trimble.
This agreeable aura extends to “Dharma” as the track blossoms into a zone both sunshiny and substance added, making it the most ’60s derived track thus far, though in a welcome twist the lyrical expletives undercut this development more than a little. “Chestnut Follies” begins with the intertwined fragility of guitar and vocals but quickly gets a full band boost as the strains of harmonica help to deepen the descriptions of Sore Eros as being rurally inclined.
But really, the key word in the last sentence is quickly, as all five of the release’s tracks up to this point total under four minutes each. If psychedelic, the band resist the unfocused or needlessly repetitive. Even when they do stretch out, which is twice here, they keep things engaging through structural changes, such as the 10:28 of “Ocean Tow” which sports a motorik section reminding me a bit of Thee Oh Sees, but considerably less heavy. There is also some mellotron action (at least it sounds like that instrument), and that’s always appreciated.
Sore Eros aren’t bruisers, but neither are they featherweight, though they do like to glide, as they do in “Cardinal,” but with enough bass presence to keep the balloon from rising up too high and then bursting. And the strained but not pained vocals really highlight the proceedings as belonging to the 21st century psych arena, even with a late-song smidge of lilting and trilling flute. “Diamond Highway” extends this state-of-affairs (even down to briefer gusts of flute flutter), but with the brightness and strength of Granduciel’s contribution helping the music to stand apart.
The other lengthy selection and the album’s closer “Mirror” kicks up the tempo a notch, at least for a while, as it offers bold riff-groove movement and gnarly amp-burn soloing. Unsurprisingly, the cut slows down, but that’s not at all bad, as it’s like hang-gliding naked onto a landing strip full of air mattresses. Except it’s taking a little longer to hit the ground. But hey, not that long; Sore Eros is spread across four sides, but at 45 rpm, the duration is that of a single LP. Make that a highly enjoyable single LP. Sore Eros’ achievement quashes the disappointment that can come with prolonged anticipation.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
