Gatherer
Caught Between a Rock and a Sad Place

And sometimes you come across albums like this. Albums so intimate and personal that you don't know how to take them. Played without pretensions by people who have no intention of making art regardless, it comes out as it may. They want to record an album, and they do, the final result isn't that important, but the process is. The musicians who make these works are first and foremost people, and they let us into their world through their works and they don't describe what they think, what they say, what they see. They describe what they do, what happens in their life.

And you might not care much, actually not one bit, not at all. And you wonder what goes through these people's minds, why they write such intimate lyrics, why this mood, why don't they keep it to themselves? It's their business, their stories, their words, their thoughts. We have nothing to do with it, and all of this doesn't interest us. Why are they confiding in me, who is listening to this album? There are things that would be odd to say to someone else, let alone sing them on a record. The lyrics become so intimate and heartfelt that they raise doubts, at some point you don't know whether to lavish praise or exclaim: "Oh! But this is a wimp!" and such doubts remain. Well, there's more interesting stuff even on this wavelength.

First album dated 2013 for Gatherer, a five-member band from Bayonne, New Jersey. Post-Hardcore/Emo along the lines of Touché Amoré, Pianos Become The Teeth, and generally much of the Topshelf Records or No Sleep roster. They might be identified as one of the many latecomer bands following a strongly expanding trend in recent years across the ocean. But if we really have to argue that Gatherer is one of these, we must also admit they manage to imitate better than many others.

The main ingredients are easily identifiable given the genre played, their origin, and various influences. A rhythm section that is never invasive supports pieces softened by that melodic taste that very often characterizes works released under Topshelf, where an insecure and resounding voice shouts lyrics always written in the first person filled with words of despair but also of recounts of real and common experiences, not always good, not always bad. Perhaps immature lyrics, perhaps lacking something to enhance their communicability but certainly written spontaneously. Which we like. And here we return to the previous discussion. Sometimes you just don't know how to take these albums. But you know that in the end, they work.