Emmy the Great - The Edward EP (EP)

So many dozens of great records are made each year that it’s quite easy not to think about those that will never see the light of day. But on reflection, it’s both intriguing and disturbing that we’ll never know just how much we end up missing out on from artists who might run out of steam, abandon their work in a fit of pique, or just wander off down another channel entirely.

Take Emmy the Great’s The Edward EP, as a prime example. In playing previously overlooked old songs in her encores on a recent tour, her nostalgic instincts were stirred to the extent that she decided to commit four of them to tape as a kind of prequel to her debut album First Love (though not, by her own admission, before having to double-check some of her lyrics online, so far to the back of her mind had these songs been cast).

The fact that these wonderful songs were discarded before even being recorded speaks volumes about the quality of what did end up making it on to the album. But perhaps Emmy was selling her earliest work a little short, because at times The Edward EP surpasses parts of First Love, particularly on its lead track ‘Edward is Dedward’.

The themes of death, loss and regret beset the songs, but even in the face of such heavy subject matter, Emmy’s typically sharp turn of phrase and delicately bouncy strum-alongs stave off any threat of mawkishness. On ‘Edward is Dedward’ for example, she imbues a bleak tale of mourning with a touching sense of defiance: ‘If burial restricts your view / I’ll bring the city here to you’. The folky opening of the song builds into something noisier, akin to the atmosphere of drunken revelry that gradually permeates a funeral and turns it into a celebration.

There are plenty of examples of the ability of Emmy to interweave poignancy with knowing wit which was often apparent on First Love. ‘Canopies and Drapes’ (no, it’s definitely not Grapes) recounts a tricky break-up sound-tracked by New Kids on The Block, Billy Bragg and stolen Magnetic Fields Eps and which results in predictably regrettable drunken episodes and feeling ‘worse than when S Club 7 broke up’. The same song also contains such beautiful imagery as a longing to ‘teach the mattress to erase you from its folds’.

Emmy has recently talked about how recording these songs has revived her love of song writing. The act of releasing this EP, far from being the backwards step it could be construed as, should have a positive impact on her next album. Given the quality of what she’s released so far, this is a seriously exciting prospect.

8/10

Cogwheel Dogs - Greenhorn (EP)

These days, eccentricity tends to arouse suspicion. It’s often so try-hard and affected that naturally we’re a bit dubious when confronted with it. This, presumably, is why the lowest common denominator, meat-and-potatoes bands tend to be the ones which sell oodles of records. This is all very logical, if a little depressing. So, with that in mind, maybe we need to embrace the oddballs a bit more.

Step forward Cogwheel Dogs then. Consisting of artist / singer Rebecca Mosley and bookish cello-thrasher Tom Parnell, they’ve been recording together in Oxford for four years, honing their sound and giving away most of their output on their website. Debut EP Greenhorn is their first full release, and features four new songs.

The EP might clock in at less than fifteen minutes, but there’s a hell of a lot crammed in here. The twin forces of Mosley’s bewitching voice, which can go from little girl lost to demented she-devil like the flick of a switch (often in the space of the same song), and Parnell’s unrestrained, ultra-distorted cello are the band‘s strongest weapons. On opening song ‘Kitchen’, the two combine to create a sinister, menacing atmosphere that hangs around the EP like a morning fog that won‘t quite lift.

Mind you, there’s more to Cogwheel Dogs’ sound than just cello and voice though. Mosley and Parnell employ a host of other little flourishes; a strummed egg slicer here, a creepy covert melody there, making the sound a lot more expansive than you would expect a home-recorded EP made by a two-piece to be.

The band’s lyrical content ranges from the trivialities of day to day life (such as the joys of boiling, slicing and peeling an egg) to the completely outlandish. Closing track ‘Octavia’, for example, starts off with ‘The recycling box is all mixed-up / I will fish out your plastic from your cardboard’ before going off on one about how ‘Octavia has eight thousand arms’. This emphasises the point that this is an EP of contrasts and contradictions; sweetness and menace, delicacy and strength, poignancy and aloofness.

It’ll be interesting to see how Cogwheel Dogs bear up over the course of a full album. The dense feeling of claustrophobia coupled with the vocal dramatics could get a bit too much, but there’s also a sense of urgency in the recordings which can offset that. Either way, Greenhorn is an interesting taster of what’s to come.

7/10

Deerhunter - Rainwater Cassette Exchange (EP)

Modern musicians tend to get a bit of a bad rap for not being as prolific as their counterparts of years gone by. Bradford Cox and his mates in Deerhunter, however, give massive lie to this reputation. By my reckoning, since the start of 2008, they have released four albums between them (two under the Deerhunter guise, one as Atlas Sound and one as Lotus Plaza). As well as this, dozens of songs, virtual singles and EPs have been given away for free download on Bradford’s blog.

In spite of the accusations of a lack of quality control which have been slung at the band, their prolific outlook is welcome, as is their relaxed attitude to giving their music away. It’s exciting to be able to chart an artist’s progression so readily. And, as anyone’s mother would tell you, it’s a bit churlish to turn your nose up at something that’s being handed to you for nothing.

The latest ‘proper’ Deerhunter release is the Rainwater Cassette Exchange EP. It opens with the title track which is an immediate example of the impact of Bradford’s recent Animal Collective fixation. The band take the underwater production feel of some recent Animal Collective songs and enhance it with a bassline which creates a real groove, making the song both woozy and stirring at the same time.

There’s something a bit child-like and heart-warming about the way Bradford’s influences seep into his band’s music. He’s clearly as much a fan as he is an artist. Where the genius of Deerhunter lies though is in their ability to create something completely original, in spite of wearing their influences firmly on their sleeves.

Like all Deerhunter records, Rainwater Cassette Exchange is a two-headed beast. Not content with just lulling the listener into a state of nirvana, they also decide to play around with their garage rock fantasies. ‘Disappearing Ink’ and ‘Famous Last Words’ form a twin pronged assault which see the band at their most visceral and energetic. So direct are they in fact, that at one point in ‘Disappearing Ink’, they almost sound a little bit like The Strokes (an unlikely comparison, I know).

The one EP track which we have already heard (thanks to Bradford’s giveaways) is ‘Game of Diamonds’. This is a beautiful piece of work, which chugs along gently, mixing plaintive yearning “No-one ever talked to me / Now I’ve forgotten how to speak” with some nice cryptic imagery, “As soft as a stranger’s hand / I’ve counted every grain of sand”.

The closing track on the EP, ‘Circulation’ quickly descends from distorted power chords and Deerhunter’s oft-utilised pounding beat into something else entirely. Random samples and noises are cluttered together, clinging desperately onto the back of a simple acoustic refrain, creating a delicate frenzy to close off the record.

It may clock in at a fraction over a quarter of an hour, but Rainwater Cassette Exchange takes you on a definite journey. It is varied, but not disjointed. Concise, but not half-formed. And it’s another mouthwatering reminder of just how brilliant Deerhunter are. Cherish them.