On a saunter through the streets of Paris, France in the not-so-distant future, I would venture to imagine that the sounds of Bela Karoli’s album Furnished Rooms would be quite normal. The eleven songs are filled with fun elements that are outright unorthodox, postmodern tending toward the otherworldly, but they anchor themselves nonetheless in what feels like an old world traditional.
Other bands have shot for this degree of subtlety – Thom Yorke, on his solo album, he shot for it, missing the target largely; Feist, maybe hit it. The strangely affecting all-girl, Denver Colorado trio featuring an upright bass, mechanical percussion, dual female vocals, violin, cello and accordion are all but implacable in the contemporary rock/alternative stratosphere. The band says their music begins in the car, but that feels somehow a little less than genuine: these songs feel like they come from a small, intimate room, or at least the upturned sheets, or a frustrated tantrum in one. Julie David and Brigid McAuliffe draw on the poetic traditions of Emily Dickinson and T.S. Eliot, haughty stuff unless you pull it off – they do. Songs like “Invertebrate” and “Some Things That Fly There Be” feel like somber summer sleep-in mornings; teasingly titled tracks “Summertime” (drawn from the Gershwin standard) and “Metal Body” much the same. Top to bottom, Furnished Rooms is one of the more accomplished records of its size and stature.
Bela Karoli never gets too loud, nor do they make an emboldened statement unto themselves – no on is shouting here. They’re asking the listener to discover them. Armed with this collection of moodily blended songs from Furnished Rooms, and its simple expression of mood and subtle influences, it’s a plainspoken necessity you do so.
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