The Alps
III

"Night Records" 

I think I have listened to more than half of the records I own with headphones (from the walkman up to the iPod, I've tried them all), and Ÿ of the same before going to bed. I have indeed contracted the now quite widespread nighttime listening disease with headphones. I can only boast of being a so-called prime mover (how cool is it to say and write that, right?), or rather having contracted the disease before others, at a time when the whole matter was frowned upon by those around me.

From Metallica to Sigur Ros, I have bombarded my poor ears (but especially my subconscious) with every kind of music, always managing to sleep like a log. I still can't say if this will lead, or has already led, to irreversible damage to my sleep capacities; so much so that I relentlessly continue to very carefully choose my "night records."

The favorite night record of 2008 is this third effort by the Californians The Alps (don't ask me about the previous ones, I have no idea and, to be honest, I don't give a damn).

And the first track, A Manhã Na Praia, clearly defines the atmosphere of the album, already obvious from the beautiful cover: warm Middle-Eastern percussion introduces a simple acoustic phrasing, while a xylophone cheerfully punctuates, and something resembling a sitar makes us feel a bit like Sandokan under methadone, even when a kind of feedback enters to break the idyll, giving us an ambient ending. A real pleasure for your tired minds.

The beauty is that the general level of the pieces (all instrumental) continues on excellent tracks: "Hallucinations" lives up to its title, ambling on the back of an acid camel, with echoes of distant voices, gentle and soothing keyboards, backward tapes, and any sort of mandatory psychedelic knick-knacks. The intertwining of acoustic guitar and piano is excellent ("Cloud One"), as well as the rubbery bass lines (almost trip-hop) of "Trem Fantasma," leading to the early '70s Floydian ghosts of "Labyrinths" and "Into The Breeze." If we also add two sorts of tributes to the avant-garde (can I write Terry Riley? Well, I wrote it so we're all happy) like "Echoes" and "Pink Light," I can only praise these three Californian lads, especially because, having talked about my own business and the tracks are over, there's nothing more to write about.

Oh, I forgot: avoid the vinyl edition and don't fall into the useless whim of purchasing it like I did, since the cover is a nondescript faded brown thing, nothing like the CD's one.

Goodnight.