Jeniferever

Sweden's Jeniferver has been kicking around since 1996, but Spring Tides is actually my introduction to them, and only the band's second official full-length. Nonetheless, it's a pretty decent first impression. Spring Tides sounds like what might happen if the Cure played post-rock, something that would put them firmly in the company of bands like Sigur Rós and Mono if not for more minimal instrumentation and a mournful, melancholic touch courtesy of Kristofer Jönson's melodic, fragile and breathy voice.

Throughout Spring Tides, Jeniferever operate heavily on subtlety. You barely realize the layered group vocals of "Concrete and Glass" when they sneak in, while the spoken-word place-setting of "Ox-Eye" definitely resembles that of later-era Envy, as well as the aforementioned Cure (the latter of whom also seem to inspire the middle stages of the nearly 10-minute "Nagijala"). Some might see complimenting Jeniferever on their subtlety as an apologetic substitute for a lack of dynamics, and in some way they'd be right. But it's still a pretty, mildly sparkling way of making their way through the album.

Their operation's rather deliberate, too, as exposed in "The Hourglass," where Jönson noticeably punctuates snarling syllables and whispers lines above respectively plucked and ringing guitars and a rhythmic, steady bass that pulses around the 3:40 mark perfectly. The closing title track meanders and wanders about until it finds the end of 8:38.

Spring Tides is charismatic but often drifts off and usually for too long. Nonetheless, it's a sporadically pleasant listen and provides a wintry atmosphere that resonates well with the dying days of the season.

STREAM
Green Meadow Island
St. Gallen
Nangijala