3.5/5
Comparing Cranes’ lead singer Alison Shaw with the infamous Dadaist rocker Don Van Vliet ‘mdash; better known to most fans as Captain Beefheart ‘mdash; may seem a relatively strange proposition. Although both musicians possess voices of the sui generis variety (which, in this age of manufactured carbon copies, already makes them both cool) their pitches will nonetheless draw inevitable repulsion from many a listener. Shaw’s childlike vocals recall a mythical siren, emerging from an infinitely placid lake at the center of some nebulous forest, goading and drawing the weary traveler through an impenetrable haze ‘mdash; exactly the sort of thing that (understandably) pisses off a lot of people.
The Cranes’ sound has done some heavy evolving over nine studio albums, emerging from a more riff-heavy shoegaze to a subtler, softer and more ethereal place. Over 20 years after their debut, Shaw’s stark vocals are still in complete command, met halfway with the ubiquitous acoustic stylings of brother and bandmate Jim and a comforting set of electronic blips and pulses, all backed by a quiet thumping.
‘Wonderful Things’ is the self-titled album’s standout track, showcasing not only marvelously seductive, insidious guitar work, but some of she-Shaw’s most powerful vocals ‘mdash; proving that, despite her breathiness, she is still a capable of a good belt ‘mdash; and poetic lyrics possess a genuine tenderness and mystery to the saga.
‘Worlds’ serves as the album’s radio-worthy single, opening with those familiar pulsating strings and accompanied by a genial electro-blip, but waxing catchy one-third of the way in as the Cranes slyly segue into a friendly, upbeat promenade that demands instant replay.
The remaining tracks sparkle with the same thorough contemplation, allowing a band that’s more than been around the block to reach a young, tangible beauty and evoke a richly sensual universe often lost on tired vets to the business. Unfortunately, nothing about Cranes transcends pretty to grapple with the unexpected. All that the band attempts to do, the Cocteau Twins and Slowdive could do just a little better (and already have). The track list also tends to slip into a sort of repetition, causing us to unwillingly enter a struggle with relatively sustained bouts of boredom ‘mdash; something that could never happen while experiencing superior dreampop like Slowdive’s Pygmalion.
Of course, this should not relegate Cranes to the used bin ‘mdash; far from it. The music therein is so reflectively unpretentious that it completely flies about the new set of mediocre shoegazers; in fact, there’s a good chance that ‘mdash; seeing how well time has treated them thus far ‘mdash; we’ll see these birds take flight. But for now, we’re happy to let them preen.