Eamon the Destroyer may sound heedless in name, but his musical constructions are as intricate as they're insane.
Case in point, his new (Bear Suit Records) release: A Small Blue Car: It denotes something quaint, simple, of no immediate threat, but the Destroyer knows how to smear any pretentious gleam through his unpretentious glint.
As such, some of Small Blue Car starts off idyllic, but the softness is a ruse, a means to careen one toward its dim, dusty trails.
"Silver Shadow" presses this notion, zooming like the Flash or Quicksilver along ever entwining turf, hoping to land in some safe destination, but we all know the climax will likely finish with a splat.
"A Slow Motion Fade" invokes a similar texture, but by its conclusion, its pacifying reverberation creates an event horizon, beyond which any number of outcomes may exist, but its devilish tonality suggests only the sinful.
"My Drive" carries the same prickly torch, albeit in a cowpoke way (think Tom Waits gurgling country western), and "Nothing Like Anything" assures the best of both worlds: escapism from a dismal life, encoded as a fractured Christmas carol.
"The Tide to Steal Away" might be the most fickle of this cynical group: a whimsical spark that feels like the end-cut of the original Blade Runner, instilling an against-the-odds dream and hopeful(?) vow.
Other tracks confirm journeys ended and the strange aftermaths that ensue. "The Conjuring Stop" is one such example, essaying the hurt one feels when religion falls flat. "Uledaru" accentuates this grating confirmation, much like a drop-off with the spectral Charon at the Gates of Hell. "Tomahawk Den" and "Avalanche" are without question the edgiest of these stationary dreads: pockets of chaos that buzz and whir like Amityville flies.
Aside from these audio think-pieces (all of which are greater than great), my favorite track goes a tad against the general grain. "Humanity is Coming" allows the Destroyer to bemoan his lament for a vanguard of nasty normality, but then isn't that the precise thing we wish to evade whenever we drive our small, blue car?
Why shell out for some come-and-go getaway when the Destroyer's audio vessel veers one straight to where one belongs? One need only listen, crash and (with a jeering grin) burn:
https://bearsuitrecords.bandcamp.com/album/a-small-blue-car
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