Kitchens and Bathrooms

What is peculiar about the inventive avant-rock music of Kitchens and Bathrooms is that it has a sort of third person narrative quality to it. That is, their approach to song structure is distant (but not never impersonal), which makes the listener objectively pay attention to that fact that the intermediate level math melodies and textures they construct eventually make up a concept that is known as "music," making them the next step past post-rock (or is it post-post-rock?). This debut is an interbreeding experiment that combines the experiences stored in brain chemicals charged by the likes of Hum, Mogwai, Chore, Gandharvas, Don Caballero, Slint and even King Crimson's Red (although the latter is a coincidence, since everyone in the band are too young to know who they are). Along with a psychedelic dose of heavy chromatics and manic depressive percussion, the group's unique formula includes a faithful disregard for generic formulas. Instead, they opt for sparse, abstract and concealed vocals, which in turn makes for a highly subjective listening experience that ranges from meek utterings of sound that build up to these massively jagged feasts of melody, which are almost too big in scope, even for the big screen. The alternations of sound dynamics are spaciously captured to tape by Junkhouse member and producer/engineer Dan Achen, who creates a deeply dense atmosphere and the listener becomes the probe that is sent into it to see what is there. At times, the drums and guitar sound as if they exist in an AM radio wavelength, while the bass hums and rumbles like thunder from 1000s of yards away. Listening to this album is very much like living in a multi-dimensional late-night daydream. In fact, Kitchens and Bathrooms make the mental state of introspection seem like a public event.