Although I very much want to use the word “Zany” to describe what Erasurehead does on this new cassette, that word is just a little too… quick. It’s too fast, too zippy — A. Cooper Reid, the Nor’Easter’ bedroom song writer, harnesses the colorful, carefree spirit of a classic Saturday morning cartoon and mutes it, slows it way down to a comfortable and comforting lope. The result is something scratched and sepia-tinged with a deep voice burying unintelligible vocals inside lovesick melodies between circuit-bent segues of noise that glue the tunes together.
Moonwort is indeed pleasantry that takes some pains to fully appreciate as the songs feel like they’re wrapped up in wool blankets, smothered and searching for air. At the same time, it’s tough to say that this would be any better with a crystal clear, clean air to it. The tape’s inherent pollution gives the songs their own unique charm that is sweet and endearing in their self-suffocation. For when that Erasurehead cracks a smile and those pearly whites do gleam through the dingy surface, the sweetness is enough of a hook to reel any able-bodied eardrum in for repeated listens. Yet another winner for Russian imprint Singapore Sling, which produced not a single dud in all the tapes I wrangled from their catalog in 2013 — a perfect, essential addition to their knockout series of lo-fi pop releases from others like Nose Bleed Island, Sam Gas Can, and Travel Kyoto.
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