The Mazda3 Time Machine has developed annoying quirks over the past few months: ghost clicks. Anyone who owns a vehicle with a touchscreen is likely aware of the issue—or should be, as the odds are good that after a half dozen years (give or take) it’ll happen to yours, too. In short, the touchscreen takes on a mind of its own. For instance, when listening to SiriusXM (be it AM, FM, or satellite), random “signal scans” initialize or, if not, the screen may jump from the radio interface to the parental-lock portal. CarPlay is not immune, either: For me, the Maps app zooms in obnoxiously tight and/or the Music app goes all screwy, kicking off unwanted shuffles of random songs.
There’s no rhyme or reason to the phenomenon, either. Some days it’s a constant battle, with the phantom clicks coming fast and furious, while others they’re few and far between. But, given that it was a daily, incessant occurrence for much of July and August, I feared our recent roadtrip would turn hellish quick. Thankfully, however, the first time the touchscreen acted up we were pulling up to our D.C. hotel after four-plus hours on the road. The second time was the next day, just as another lengthy ride was coming to an end. The third time occurred Tuesday morn, just as we were leaving Richmond, with the rest of that ride free of hiccups.
That’s all to say: Technology isn’t as “freeing” as we sometimes think. AI is another example. Yeah, it enables us to create silly images but, as I’ve pointed out, it also litters analyses with false facts. In a similar vein, when it comes time to turn one’s dreams into sound, the never-ending tech advances can be something of a straitjacket. What becomes a project when the options are endless?
On their latest outing, In the Pines—a Cincinnati-based band that records just across the river in Dayton, Ky.—demonstrate that the old limits still have much to give. Led by childhood pals Michael Shular (lead vocals/guitar) and Charlie Horn (lead guitar), and including Patrick Zopff (vocals/bass), Alex Dungan (drums/vocals), and Peter Foley (synthesizers), the group conjures the cool grooves of the Charlatans (UK) and Verve—and, too, the Paisley Underground sounds that influenced them. Sunbeam Dream, their fourth album, is a sonic flashback to a time when melodies tripped into ecstasy, harmonies soared toward heaven, and guitars rippled across the pond that is the subconscious mind. (Stanislav Grof would have a field day with their songs. Just sayin’.)
I should mention that the band members own and operate Foleytronics, a boutique audio repair shop that specializes in vintage (aka pre-1990) equipment, such as the 1971 Mellotron that colors the songs of Sunbeam Dream. Beyond that, however: All of the recording gear used on the album was resuscitated by the band, which saw the limitations of the devices as a plus. How can one push boundaries if there are no boundaries?
A good example: “Flyin’ Nowhere,” which was released as a single in July. The guitar, bass, synths, and drums lock in like a jet on its ascent to the sky. “Time Shakes,” released last week, spirals into the psychedelic ‘60s, sounding a bit like a refugee from—for those old enough to remember it—the Rock Artifacts CD series. The same’s true of the album as a whole. Some tunes, such as the title track and “Hide the Sky,” up the guitar quotient; others lean more on the synths; and others, such as the closing “All This Noise” gathers them altogether to glorious effect. Either/or/all, it’s a throwback sound, to be sure, but one that should appeal to most everyone who enjoys strobe lights, Monterey Pop, and the Three O’Clock.
The Old Grey Cat 