Once upon a time, in a cabin in the forest…

(Image swiped from…)

Many months ago, The modelesque Andy leaned over to me in the dim light of an armchair night and offered a precarious wisdom. ‘Band names with narrative, I tell you,’ he smiled enigmatically before i disappeared into the smoke, ‘it’s the next level.’ (ok, so I’m paraphrasing; his exact intonations have seeped through the holes in my whiskeyed memory into the cracks of forgotten conversations at various parties from two seasons ago, but that’s the gist of what he said. It was interesting, then, that I’d only I heard him playing once, and was still pretty dubious. Now I’m a fan. As far as integrity goes, theirs is a musical story unfolding. Here’s my progression for a pair of pretty talented boys that have really grown together over time, the way good wine matures and becomes inexorably magnificent:

1. 1^st time yonks ago, mildly unimpressed. Yeah, whatever. Pretty boys. Acoustic noise. Sigh. trying too hard to look like they’re not trying. Somebody buy me a drink.

2. the Second time, last week, captivated by the crescendos..

3. Third time, truly and positively entertained by their evolution. and hooked. Can I buy you a drink?

4. Fourth time, two days later, swooning. Spinning in the Spanish plucks and brilliant vocal synergy. *(gary, sing more) nevermind the drinks. This is swallowing ME!

Dem be

Cabins In The Forest

And they will tell the story their way, so I’m just here to say :

it’s

almost emo, but dusted with gusts of pretty angst and gutsy punk notation that keep it real.

It’s white linen guitaraganza. Two men and four voices learning to complement each other. fullstring progressions whose perfectly incensed crescendos carry on for a lovely, long time. The way good climaxes should. And then a sudden silence

exhale.

(notice how a lot of novice bands struggle to start and finish songs ?)

open your whole soul to their sound, coz when they’re done, they’re gone.

Cabins keep pushing themselves into new territory. Their notoriety has attached itself to their fans by now - their signature sound gets a round of applause in the first bar, but the new things they’re coming up with are not anything we’ve yet heard from them, nor really have names for. And I like it that way! If you dare to let music challenge you, you might too. Lend them your ears. But hang onto your heart.

On a sliding scale of musical evolution, these boys are picking up momentum. I’m excited for them. And well pleased for those of us who like them. There’s a lot more to come.

Bring it on.

(o. and happy winter. Even if it’s a little too early. Good time to stock up on firewood and longjons, kitlings, if you don’t have a fire of your own. Or a long jon of your own, for that matter.…)

(and no doubt this season will give Cabins a lot more to sing and play about.

Myspace it

Face it

At this stage

Stages are funny things. Half often all that separates a crowd from a band is the implicit agreement of territories and a step in the right direction. And all them wires. These strips are more like skid marks, they’re so small and dingy. But maybe we like it like that.

The Armchair's slit of stage is so slight that musicians often enter through the crowd. It works for this soundbar. It’s that ultra easy, instantly accessible cool that makes the Armchair the seat of underground sound. That, and the grimey carpets and the sink-into, neverwashed sofas. Our scene might be small, but it’s dirty.

I feel sorry for cramped musicians. The brawling, adoring masses (well, um.) get all the space to bump shoulders and break bread and bones together (think Half Price). They’d no doubt rather be doing it with the stars admirably shaking their asses and venting their catharses in their individual square metres of space, plugged and wired. But they can’t because Air guitars make crap music.