We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.
The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ...
Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.
Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.
Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.
Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.
Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.
There’s something delightfully indefinable about Toronto four piece Absolutely Free. They have a fetish for unconventional time signatures that rivals that of King Crimson or Yes, and yet, where some bands love you to know exactly how clever they are by doing so, this lot’s grooves skim along so effortlessly and gracefully you keep forgetting.
Their songs have a mystical, portentous quality to them and at the same time they’re capable of delivering music that’s so catchy it could be made of Velcro. Thanks to the often falsetto vocals of frontman Matt King (vocals/multi-instrumentalist), they are packed with emotion, but with a swirling, reverb-laden production by Jorge Elbrecht (No Joy, Gang Gang Dance, Japanese Breakfast) means it feels one step removed, like watching an argument or someone losing their shit from a distance. This, their second album, starts with a song called ‘Epilogue (After Touch)’ and ends with one called ‘Morning Sun’. What more proof do you need?
In plain musical terms, too, they’re hard to pin down – neither electronic nor indie but resolutely both. The aforementioned ‘Morning Sun’’, probably the most epic sounding among a tracklisting of epic songs, brings Editors at full pelt to mind, but elsewhere they sound not unlike a more interesting and unconventional Cure (see Michael Claxton’s nicely clonky bass on ‘Still Life’). Either side of that song, however, you’ve got the ‘Remaining Light’ – somewhere between Steve Reich and Tortoise, with echoes of Pink Floyd pitching in – and the full on 80s synthpop arpeggios of ‘Are They Signs’.
All in all, it’s the kind of bewildering you can really get used to. Add the intimate and confessional sounding lyrics of King, and you’ve got something that’s as easy to love as it is hard to pigeonhole.
John Robbins