White Glove Test
Leap

And with this second album from 1989, they close it there. I was undecided about which of the two works released by the band to focus a review on, it goes without saying that the advice to check out both of them wasn't even considered to say so much it seems like a double album released a few years apart from each other.

Let's highlight the affectionate exchange with the 17 Pygmies in the album notes, but L.A. and its surroundings is just the common ground noting that the music is all flour from that "glove." It confuses you, that singular mix of rock pop wave that makes you replay it, you take the bait of a Pacific coast invite not from Colt gunslingers but from those miracle laudanum sellers, those cure-all syrups hawked in the public square but with attention that even the most seasoned world traveler falls for. And why is that? Because in the end, there's substance, it seems light, it seems like powder, it seems...

The real danger of mistakenly considering them rock charlatans melts away when we realize their musical potions offend the taste for a moment, compared to the pleasant aftertaste that presents itself after a few listens, like the sweet syrup of childhood.

A baroque western rock, dreamy melodies yet concrete with feelings uncovered by regressive hypnosis, of our pasts presenting themselves grainy, disorienting ballads from the curious happiness of shared déjà vu in the absence of robotic intellectuality. They leave a taste of mixed memories played with a veil of melancholy but without regrets. Compositions that epicize life's missed opportunities, but then why missed?

I would like to convey a sensation upon listening that only listening can clarify, where a secretly dramatic flow is dense and engaging in its mystification of light music. I repeat, I don't know precisely what they have but they hypnotize, lucidly daze some inner chord of mine that resonates with their recitation of a playful Saturn, of a cultured taunt of impersonal intelligence that hesitates a decisionism tending towards pursuing ephemeral victories, when the sound impact comforts us in the resignation of will.

The humility that the album brings out is even entertaining and exhilarating in the suspension of induced frenzies. The paraffin glove test reveals that these guys fired with both the right and the left hand, but not bullets. The misleading "appearances" of the first work complement the crystalline "leap" of the same where a new paganism of elegant rock variations makes an appearance.