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Rating: I would love to introduce this mysterious creature, known as Tacoma Radar, but I believe only the members themselves have the ability to do so.
There is nothing so certain for us.
The photos can be counted on the fingers of one hand and it's hard to find even one that shows all their faces clearly.
An EP, released in 2001, and only one album, this one, in 2004. Presumably ceased their musical activity the year before.
They entered quietly and exited the scene in the same way.
It's a collection of songs painted with various shades of grey, just like its slightly blurred cover, so simple yet so evocative at the same time.
It presents us with an ambivalent interpretation: the journey of a return home on a snowy winter day, or the journey of someone leaving, perhaps forever.
These songs are frames of moments, memories, thoughts, things never said. Bittersweet emotions. Sincere and direct.
It's an album I adore visualizing as a very soft, fragrant, and velvety blanket, one that's so pleasant to touch. And that in turn caresses you and gives you that warmth and sense of refuge and protection, when it's cold outside but especially when it's cold inside the soul.
Those caresses are precisely the notes of Jennifer Cosgrove's whispers, with her lovely voice, with its tiny and sporadic imperfections that make it even more special and intimate in that characteristic and delicate vulnerability.
As for me, I love returning to be wrapped up in this blanket.
Now, for my part, I exit the scene without attracting too much attention. Undisturbed.
"Loneliness arrives without making a noise."
Tracklist
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