Cynical minds have been speaking about "trends" and "hypes" in punk rock, about an abundance of quieter and introspective music. I beg to differ. While it's certainly true, that a plaided shirt, a beard, and an acoustic guitar is quite the safe route to take for the past few years, there is an entirely alternate scene-within-a-scene out there, one that does not rely exclusively on songs about booze and heartbreak... at least not all the time.Admittedly, it's easy and lazy to be throwing these two records in the same bin, just because they are quiet and came out on the same label at the same time, but fuck it. It makes for some good name dropping. Aimée Argote, the lady behind Des Ark had J Mascis produce one of her records, and members of Pygmy Lush used to be in bands such as Pg. 99, City of Caterpillar, and Majority Rule - all cornerstones in my record collection, and still: it doesn't mean anything at all at the end of the day. Just look at the ex-members tag from a different angle: J Mascis was in fucking Deep Wound of all bands. Shelby Cinca did the design for the Pygmy Lush album, and it's a far cry from Frodus. Dave Grohl was in Scream. Dave Mustaine was in Metallica. Told ya, fucking useless info!
The lowest common denominator for both records is the atmosphere: they both feel haunted. Haunted in the sense of an 8 track recorder on the floor boards of an old abandoned house in the middle of the night, with the sounds of the wind outside as an integral part of the music instead of a mistake. Haunted in the sense of carrying around the burden of sorrow and guilt, of love gone wrong and bad decisions, of lost lovers and lost friends. It's hard to put my finger on it, but beneath all the calm beauty in both records, there is something dark. I am no stranger to this.
Please let me make a statement: Des Ark sounds nothing like Pygmy Lush. These albums are not interchangeable, it's just that they have the same atmosphere - the same kind of atmosphere I can get out of Tom Waits' Closing Time or from The Jesus and Mary Chain's Darklands, to stretch the analogy even further. It's all a gloom of despair and alienation, but alive with pleasure and love and lust. This is the sound of the need to rest, to re-think, reminiscence and adjust, of the need for introspection and the screaming urge for expression at the same time.
99% of aging punks are nostalgic idiots full of shit. Pygmy Lush and Des Ark are the exception to the rule.
