Indian Bingo
Overwrought

If I had to label this music on the first impact, I would come up with something like: well, they do a not-bad rock folk prog country jazz (wide-eyed smile). And with that dreamy-melancholic pop, yet always detached with its imprint of a cultured western undertone, we find ourselves in fields illuminated by direct yet profound musical plots, and the instruments, clear in their declaration of clarity, help immerse in a listening experience that gives maaany satisfactions.

Mike Boul's unique voice captivates with its stride towards disappearing to recover past moments, set out for us by the guitars of Phil Carnet and Bill Boyle. The rhythm section, Kenny Kessel on bass and Jim Hogland on drums, pearls everything with a pleasant atmosphere of memories externalized at sunset, on the porch of a ranch.

The result is emphatic in avoiding regrets where the accelerations are no less significant than the acoustic passages that best indicate the horizons of young America. And there is a desire to understand, using a Western psyche, the new world. The band makes itself available to the new energy with a pioneering spirit that excludes premeditated variants.

What emerges is an album that, in presenting itself without preconceptions, still surprises, given that we had been well accustomed by "Scatological" from 1990, which could already suffice, as it was such a musical filter to a folkloric tradition made of prefab frontier towns with airs forecasting their "ghostly" end.

In this too, one grasps that type of disappearance from the gold rush, focusing more on the reflection than on the nugget. In short, the Levi's are less dirty due to the thinning of the initial pioneering dust. They sediment sliding on the tracks of a train that begins an irreversible progress, recalling those past unknown galloping races to pierce the frontier.

Scraping sophistication of the "cactus"...