Sodastream
Reservations

SMALL (OR RATHER LONG) INTRODUCTION (QUITE TRITE BUT NECESSARY)

I often wonder what the meaning of being an artist is. Or rather, what one of the many meanings of being an artist might be. If not artists, at least musicians, or skilled craftsmen of songs. I wonder if a musician must always change style, always strive forward, driven by this wind, by this tension for change, the anxiety of experimenting, of always being avant-garde, always beyond others. Or is it better to be consistent, not to betray one's origins, not to get carried away? However, there is also a way to change style and remain true to oneself. People can accuse Mark Knopfler, Van De Sfroos, Bob Dylan, and even these Sodastream, of never evolving. Yet I appreciate it as long as the product is, if not excellent, at least pleasant. If the same criticism is leveled, by us "alternatives" (what a laugh this term is) at more mainstream singers, I think of Ligabue (whom I will never ever defend or rescue from the Mtv/Vodafone melting pot), it's always a terrible attack, a flourish of ridicule, at least a disappointed shake of the head; whoever defends them is labeled as a human case. Rightly so, because in the case of Ligabue, or Vasco, we are talking more about involution, a caricature of the character, in the most technical of cases, of poor songwriting. And yet, often even transformation is not saved. I imagine that if Van De Sfroos (I speak of him because I know him better than other local artists) produced a product far from the dialectal, folk, blues, country, and ethnic routes, perhaps tending towards electronic or post-rock, many would point the finger of inconsistency, betrayal, snobbery for the Italian or Laghee taste, accusing him of having gotten a big head. Misunderstandings of critics, who do not make records but listen to them, the same that harassed the release of Bowie's "Low." Then there's always someone who shouts a miracle and invokes the artist as the new messiah. Someone who is often farsighted, other times simply a fool.
In the end, who is saved? The good or the bad? Or the fools?

REVIEW (FINALLY!)
Sodastream - Reservations
or a pleasant, almost naive painting

For me, Sodastream are saved. They don't change course, don't change arrangements, don't subtract or add instruments to their ensemble. If you know their other albums, especially "Looks Like A Russian", you know well what to expect. A bittersweet acoustic pop, adorned with flourishes of violin and harmonica, painted with choruses trembling like candlelight, touched by hints of piano.
These two melancholic boys know how to write excellent singer-songwriter work in the style of Belle And Sebastian, and even if they don't deviate much from their standards, I won't make a fuss since the work is inspired and well produced. The whispered choruses of "Don't Make A Scene" evoke more than one emotion, you might find "Anti" makes you hum or just whistle, "Young And Able" will give a few thrills, "Twin Lakes" is cheerful and well-written, as is most of the album. An album not at the levels of "The Hill For The Company" and "A Minor Revival" but that, in the constant theme of the Australian duo, resembles a painting of tempera colors, almost naive, with many small figures hidden in the snow.

A pleasant painting, nothing more, fortunately nothing less, that doesn't stretch beyond ten essential songs, the duration of a breath, like this reading.