Kicking off like Seattle’s answer to our very own Bon Iver,
The Cave Singers’ sophomore effort cracks and acoustically buzzes like the busy
lot of today’s bearded, flannel-clad folk rock. While not so overly
harmony-happy as their obvious cohorts, Fleet Foxes, the granola lyricism and
poppy twang sound much like a different strand in that same earthy quilt. The
boys are at their best when vamping up their bare-bones approach with a scuzzy
layer or two here and the occasional Black Keys-esque, Stratocaster hook there.
“At the Cut” approaches a Stonesy swagger, and “Vv” errs toward the softer side
of The Faces.
But they generally tend to find their way back to
the front porch. And while lead singer Pete Quirk’s guttural whine seems mostly
obsessed with nature, trees, sun and such, it’s the “Summer Light” ceding to
the coming gloom and “Bramble” of autumn that rightfully gives the group its
sense of time and place.