Tickley Feather

Part Grouper, part Ariel Pink, all Tickley Feather, Annie Sachs easily qualifies for the Animal Collective roster of artists unconcerned with things like temporality, instrumental adeptness or anything but heart and chutzpah. With junk shop keyboard sounds and free-range guitar drones, Tickley's inner child sings out via echo delay and slightly mistuned AM radio. Imagine an ancient Roland synthesizer or midrange Casio possessed by the Shaggs (with machine-regulated rhythms) and you've got a fairly accurate picture. Like those '70s forbearers, a kind of innocence of expression shines outwards from the muddle of notes and noises. There's an undertone of melancholy and even, gasp, worldliness that keeps it all from being pure novelty. Tracks like "Club Rhythm 96 and Cell Phone" also make lateral statements about technology that trickle backwards to infect even nostalgia. The sounds of trying set to a washed-out beat will always make someone smile.