I really love Harlem. Their frenetic, clumsy garage rock, all covered in barely audible, slurred-sung vocals is endlessly satisfying to me in a way I can’t really explain. It was more or less nailed-on then that I’d love the almost-certainly-ironically-named High Pop. At first glance there’s only a passing similarity – this is far more sluggish, echoey fare, but that very same feeling of unplaceable enjoyment that creeps over me when I listen to ‘Drip From the Sea’.
Whether it’s the way the first obvious moment of guitar melody slows to a crawl and picks up again seemingly at random or the way both bandmates sing every line together (but only just) or the seemingly slapdash approach to songcraft I don’t know but something in this mess of sheer, uncaring youthfulness just grabs me and makes me smile like very little other music can do to me. I love this.