A couple of months back when we had a mysterious two-week bout of good weather I found Nuzzle’s San Lorenzo’s Blues lodged firmly in my walkman for every train journey home from work. As it poured warmly from my headphones my eyes fixed dreamily on the countryside rolling by, and I figured that maybe this record was the most perfect accompaniment I could have hoped for.
Well, the weather has changed and so, I think, has my opinion. The Dying Californian have appeared, creating what initially sounded like a linear progression from San Lorenzo’s… but, as it unravels, shows itself to be a more wonderful thing entirely.
The basic sound is the same – careworn indie rock splashed with a twist of country melancholy – but the songs are bigger, stronger, radiating confidence and a sense that the Dying Californian have finally arrived at some golden point they’ve been targeting since they got together to make music some ten years ago. Each and every note positively shines, spindly guitar lines blossoming into rocking crescendos while mumbled, incoherent vocals snake up from the dirt and into the sky, fanning out like some blissful sunset. Filled to the brim with impeccable, slowboiling anthems, We Are The Birds That Stay flickers between hard-earned elation and desperate, heavy-hearted blues, mixing the two until it’s impossible to untangle the threads and all you can do is sink down into it, letting them take you where they will. The end result is a subtle, heartbreaking masterpiece, and just about as close to perfection as you could hope to find.