Pram
Dark Island

A moon and a sun in a continuous whirl alternating night and day. And with them, that little tune; it played every evening, wishing me goodnight.
Now that music seems to be resonating in the air, subtly suggested it creeps into thoughts, seeming to come from afar, from a reality where everything was bigger, or perhaps I was smaller. I close my eyes for a moment, and this room seems to fill with colors and toys, with music boxes playing, revealing the secret contents of small chests jealously guarded.

From Birmingham, four sophisticated storytellers delight in creating dreamy nursery rhymes tinged with psychedelia and jazz. Pram enjoys playing with instruments; surrounded by synthesizers and keyboards, trumpets, strings, guitars, and percussion, they create a quirky psychedelic rock that often veers into nocturnal jazzy atmospheres.
The ten tracks of Dark Island, the band's seventh work, are dreamy compositional suites that venture into that uncertain world known as post-rock. The beginning is one of the most disconcerting; "Track Of The Cat" seems to come directly from a dusty Morriconian desert, where a trumpet and a distant whistle welcome you into Pram's dreamy world. But it is from the second track that the nocturnal atmospheres, at times slightly sinister but always filled with poetry, of the English group take shape. "Penny Arcade" is laden with electronic reverberations, and a sonic bed embraces Rosie Cuckston's delicate voice, who dims the lights and begins to lull us.
The moments alternate; sunny like in the pop opening of "Paper Hats," where it seems like hearing Laetitia Sadier on a sound walk with her Stereolab, or more subdued like in "The Pawnbroker," where the keyboard keeps the rhythm for Rosie's timid progress, but together they always render the environment subdued and uncertain. The band's experimental side takes over in the few instrumental episodes; "Sirocco" is an electronic wind laden with jazz and melancholy while Leeward is a brief post-rock gem with a slow pace.

The lights suddenly turn back on, and everything is in place as I left it. Yet, I'm sure that just a moment ago, my toys were here, and a nursery rhyme was wishing me goodnight.