Post-rock: bastion of the pretentious, where music is described by fans with such gravity you’d think they were listening to the whispering voice of Jesus trapped in a seashell rather than the musical doodlings of some ex art students.
It seems to be universally accepted that bands who create ‘soundscapes’ as opposed to pop songs occupy a loftier musical plane than your average Trilby-donning skinny jean clad guitar bands, but just as there appears to be an endless supply of production line Doherty wannabes, there are just as many sensitive souls tinkling on their Casios, dreaming of geysers and glacial surroundings.
Dublin quartet Halves wear their influences on their tatty sleeves, the swirling guitars, the chiming bells, the ethereal vocals, the delicate arrangements: so far, so familiar. Their mini album Haunt Me When I’m Drowsy is filled with the hypnotic fragile splendour one expects from the genre. It elegantly envelopes the listener in its aural lushness on tracks such as the muscular, surging -May Your Enemies Never Find Happiness’, the electro-tinged -Medals’, with its pretty jewellery box tinkles and the Godspeed-esque -The Lamp Dies’¦A Sleeping Circuit Wakes’.
Like an aural postcard, Haunt Me When I’m Drowsy is undeniably beautiful and very polished but ultimately remains quite blank and hollow, lacking in the strength, depth and atmospherics needed for it to be truly memorable. Hopefully, given time to progress, Halves will manage to create something that elevates them from able emulators to true originators.