[.ca] And The Glass Handed Kites

Glassy hands:
Mew are a powerful band, blending hard rock, prog and indierock with a sweeping hand, and turning out expansive music that sounds like nothing else. And the Danish band not disappoint in "And the Glass Handed Kites," which takes the style of their third album "Frengers" and expands on it. The result? A brilliant, shimmering piece of rock'n'roll that sounds like nothing -- and everything -- else. It opens with a soft whine, some hesitant drums and tuning guitar, as if the band is just starting a live set. Then they gradually swing into a solid, ringing guitar riff interspersed with blasting bass and soft shimmers of keyboard. No lyrics. Except for a few angel-rock cries, they don't need 'em. That changes with the swirling "Chinaberry Tree," with Jonas Bjerre singing about a passionate love that is disrupted: "As my first love said to me:/"I don't care. I'm not there"/So that I could not sleep/My whole being was falling apart/So that I soon cried out: "Dear friends, hold me!" From there on, Mew tear through other sorts of music: thunderous hard rock, shivering proggy pop, riff-heavy indierock, epic anthems of stormy sound, and silvery sweeps of eerie balladry. What's more, the songs all flow into each other with hardly any pauses, until it sounds like one enormous song. Breakout albums are usually a bit more commercial than this one -- although the songs can be catchy, there aren't any real singles, and you'd be hard-pressed to find something so intricate and intelligent on MTV. And their music is what makes them so brilliant -- ringing, driving riffs, sharp percussion and thunderlike bass spill over the circling melodies. They're softened by soaring organ and keyboard (and a bit of sparkly piano in one song), which add an almost transcendent quality to songs like the epic "Louise Louisa." Rockwise, this is like having a religious experience. At first listen, Bjerre's light voice sounds rather ordinary. But as the album wears on, he sounds hopeful and slightly forlorn, as he sings songs of exquisite strangeness. "Are you, my lady, are you?... In a submersible I can hardly breathe/As it takes me inside, so the light sings/Answer me truthfully/Do the clouds kiss you/With meringue-coloured hair?" From spun-glass ballads to epic hard-rock, Mew twines together all sorts of styles into their own art-rock masterpiece. Absolutely stunning.

Circuitry of the wolf:
Mew are a powerful band, blending hard rock, prog and indierock with a sweeping hand, and turning out expansive music that sounds like nothing else. And the Danish band not disappoint in "And the Glass Handed Kites," which takes the style of their third album "Frengers" and expands on it. The result? A brilliant, shimmering piece of rock'n'roll that sounds like nothing -- and everything -- else. It opens with a soft whine, some hesitant drums and tuning guitar, as if the band is just starting a live set. Then they gradually swing into a solid, ringing guitar riff interspersed with blasting bass and soft shimmers of keyboard. No lyrics. Except for a few angel-rock cries, they don't need 'em. That changes with the swirling "Chinaberry Tree," with Jonas Bjerre singing about a passionate love that is disrupted: "As my first love said to me:/"I don't care. I'm not there"/So that I could not sleep/My whole being was falling apart/So that I soon cried out: "Dear friends, hold me!" From there on, Mew tear through other sorts of music: thunderous hard rock, shivering proggy pop, riff-heavy indierock, epic anthems of stormy sound, and silvery sweeps of eerie balladry. What's more, the songs all flow into each other with hardly any pauses, until it sounds like one enormous song. Breakout albums are usually a bit more commercial than this one -- although the songs can be catchy, there aren't any real singles, and you'd be hard-pressed to find something so intricate and intelligent on MTV. And their music is what makes them so brilliant -- ringing, driving riffs, sharp percussion and thunderlike bass spill over the circling melodies. They're softened by soaring organ and keyboard (and a bit of sparkly piano in one song), which add an almost transcendent quality to songs like the epic "Louise Louisa." Rockwise, this is like having a religious experience. At first listen, Bjerre's light voice sounds rather ordinary. But as the album wears on, he sounds hopeful and slightly forlorn, as he sings songs of exquisite strangeness. "Are you, my lady, are you?... In a submersible I can hardly breathe/As it takes me inside, so the light sings/Answer me truthfully/Do the clouds kiss you/With meringue-coloured hair?" From spun-glass ballads to epic hard-rock, Mew twines together all sorts of styles into their own art-rock masterpiece. Absolutely stunning.

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