There’s nothing a critic should enjoy more than having their expectations, prejudices, and predilections blown apart into little, tiny pieces. The whole reason that critics have the right and/or ability to deliver any sort of reflection upon art is because critics are supposed to be purveyors of cogent, objective, measured thought upon a wide variety of topics. When a critic chooses to carve his/her preferences and definitions into stone, then his/her judgment becomes hampered and his/her evaluations lose a bit of credibility. It’s not that critics aren’t allowed to have their favorite bands, artists, actors, etc., but more that those preferences can’t get in the way of honestly reflecting upon the art they’re supposed to be constructively criticizing.
Thus, when an album like Cove comes along, the initial offering from Portland, OR band A Weather, it’s refreshing to watch critics’ definitions crumble into dust, to read them struggle with their descriptions of a band. With adjectives and descriptors flying about in press releases and articles, what is most striking about A Weather’s music is how blissfully inconspicuous it appears on the surface and how richly dense it actually is when listeners choose to pull away the various folk layers. From the male-female vocal interplay between frontman Aaron Gerber and drummer Sarah Winchester that best resemble intimate, hushed bedroom cooing to the chamber music-influenced compositional skills that serve as the glue holding together Cove’s instrumentation, the band diligently avoids those who wish to easily peg them inside any genre. Calling to mind a elegant arrangement of Red House Painters, Low, and Lazy Line Painter Jane-era Belle and Sebastian, the sexy shuffle of “Screw Up Your Courage,” the lover’s conversation that is “Small Potatoes,” and the whimsical metaphors of “Pinky Toe” are evidence that A Weather has crafted a remarkable debut that should garner them a great deal of attention and affection.
-- Adam P. Newton
