Tea Tornado marks the reclusive Marmoset’s second effort since parting ways with Secretly Canadian, and first since the passing of member LonPaul Ellrich. Perhaps these tertiary factors have contributed to a different sounding Marmoset, one that has a newfound obsession with pastries (three songs are titled after items you’d find in a bakery). Or perhaps Tea Tornado is the result of a band simply trying new things. On the surface, Tea Tornado is absolutely still Marmoset – the deadpan, sarcastic, haunting vocals of Jorma Whittaker, their trademark utilization of sonic space, and the concise Syd Barrett meets Robert Pollard song structures (with a touch of Skip Spence’s creepiness).
With that said, there’s still something decidedly different about the cadence of Tea Tornado. The record is not as spooky or enigmatic as Record In Red, or spastic and sludgey like Today, It’s You. Rather, Tea Tornado comes off as an electric folk record, at least at first glance. The songs, tightly wound, play more minimal and straightforward, stay uptempo, and feature more clear instrumentation by way of more acoustic guitar, cleaner distortion, and a brighter mix. Has Marmoset lightened up? Not exactly, but the smokiness has cleared a bit to reveal a more comfortable, onward looking Marmoset – yet one that still lurks in the shadows when necessary. Perhaps like the actual animal might.
Outside the slightly downtuned acoustic guitar and bummed lyrics on opener “Written Today,” the record opens with a sunshine folk timbre. Acid torch song “Empty Room” toys with ’60s pop and doo wop guitar. “Hallway” features upbeat Hammondesque organ and ruminations on childhood (“race you down the hallway”). Good vibes seem to abound on Tea Tornado. Yet, in these instances and others, Marmoset’s genre and mood hopping is extremely subtle. Every turn on Tea Tornado, as with all Marmoset releases, is covered with Jorma and company’s thick varnish. It’s always been difficult for me to ascertain exactly why I love Marmoset so much, and perhaps their distinction plays a large part.
However, when I said that “good vibes seem to abound on Tea Tornado,” seem is the operative word. Not all is rainbows and gumdrops with Marmoset, and if it was, our paradigm of reality would collapse upon itself. “Strawberry Shortcake” dabbles in serious low end and reverb – an almost hallucinogenic murder ballad with Morricone-style guitar to boot. When Whitakker asks you to “come with me/this is our last chance” on “Come With Me,” a song that began with “you can’t understand my evil/it hides in the depths of my grey matter” you can infer that this is not a Capulet-Montague love song. The fiercely downstrummed and stoned “He’s Been Napping” is downright demented and delightful. “You, Blueberry Muffin” acts as a snapshot of psychosis.
Yes, Marmoset is still keeping things sinister despite the injection of anti-depressants found on portions of Tea Tornado. And that may be the best part – there’s a juxtaposition in mood without a drastic change in sound. The group’s haunting facets do not hit you until later, as an afterthought or a latter reflection.
While Tea Tornado might not exist on the same plane as Record In Red (which would be difficult to do anyway, as Record In Red is a fucking classic), it’s Marmoset and it’s rad. Tea Tornado is a kaleidoscopic exercise, a great sounding record, and, perhaps most importantly, a deceivingly heavy body of songs. It’s a real creeper and worthy of your gray matter.
Marmoset’s Tea Tornado was just released by Joyful Noise and is available here.
For fans of: Alexander Skip Spence, early Velvet Underground, Syd Barrett, Psychedelic Horseshit
Fagen-Becker Quality Rating
POSSIBLY RELATED :::
The Decibel Tolls presents… MARMOSET with INVADERS and THE HARLEQUINS
MP3 :::
Marmoset – You, Blueberry Muffin
Marmoset – Empty Room
