I bought Attic Salt, Kepler's most recent LP, more or less on a whim. I had heard a little collateral buzz about them when their drummer left to join Bowie-approved superstars the Arcade Fire last year. Somehow the dusty cover image and my state of mind converged on a common wavelength that day, compelling me to shell out 15 bucks for an album I knew next to nothing about. I listened to it sporadically for a few weeks, each time uncovering newly intriguing verses and melodies. It has since become a personal favorite. "The Bedside Manner," the nostalgic, bruised narrative of a father lamenting the loss of his paternal relevance, conjures up images not unlike the aforementioned cover art. With broad, pensive strokes of guitar and piano the band paints the scenery, while the singer's understated croon sounds just defeated enough to effectively fill in the blanks.
Makes me think I should make uninformed, compulsive decisions more often.
Kepler - The Bedside Manner
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