Boys with perpetual colds who can kinda-sorta sing, hand claps
of the generic indie variety, and the unfettered production made
most odious/ingenious by Wolf Parade are three features of
BOAT's second album on Magic Marker. This lengthy collection of
fuzzy, crackling lo-fi jams does little more than their debut to
convince us of the band's merit, but I mean that as a
compliment. Their viscous sound, with each instrumental part
given equally muffled or tinny weight, at times yields some
heavy little rock lullabies. The makeshift, ad-lib familiarity
of the songs are, as is often the case with this genre, what
makes them accessible and enjoyable; for the melodies to dig to
a more sophisticated depth is an added bonus; and for them to
avoid the anemic desperation of Spencer Krug is all right, too.
As members of Seattle's prolific rock scene, BOAT differentiate
themselves most explicitly with songs like "The Ferocious Sounds
of Lobsters and Snakes/Mom, Dad, Me and You", the first part of
which has been floating a