Those purveyors of indie twee chime pop Matinee recordings celebrate their 15th anniversary with a rather spiffing 15 (what else did you think it was going to be) track celebratory compilation entitled ‘A Sunday Matinee’.
Shoehorned amid these rarefied grooves friends familiar and forgotten shimmy and serenade to a hand holding shy eyed rush of teen spirited effervescence and bitter sweet growing pains. Among the prize pickings the lo-fi lilting saccharine shimmy that is September Girls 50’s bubble grooved ’Danny Wood’ arrested in vintage honeyed harmonies and snared upon a growling riffola to sound not unlike a beat happy Shonen Knife rubbing up and cosying up to the Shangri La’s.
Somewhere else the Electric Pop Group’s acutely cute ’Parliament Square’ all longingly drenched in Hey Paulette April showers. Those much loving of their sounds shuffled in a distractively south sea shimmer tone might be best hooking themselves up to the Clay Pipes ’Someone Who Wanders’ – must admit that I’m more than a little smitten by this as it seduces the listening space reclined as were under the caressing cool shade of palm trees feasting upon a coalescing brew of kane gang and bluebells platters.
Ripped to a more than attractive power surged strut gouged groove Pale Sundays’ ‘In The Hardest Moment’ storms the barricades sounding not unlike a ‘Seamonsters’ era Weddoes albeit as though forlornly cuffed by the dulling misty eyed ache of the Hoverchairs. Also serving and earning their stripes the bruising and brief ‘There’s No Place’ by Bart and Friends echoes to the sorrowful sculpturing of the Smiths more vulnerable sorties, within its short 66 second tear stained and hollowed hello it prizes its way through your defences and in a flash has your surrendering heart hoisting the white flag.
A youthful James are called to mind with the appearance of Northern Portrait’s ‘The Young and Hopefuls’ while Charlie Big Time’s ‘One Step Closer to Enemies’ ushers in like some bracing shoulder to cry on apparition. All said we’re a tad taken by the honey glowed soft psych Spector-esque shade adorned shimmer pop of Strawberry Whiplash’s ’September Saturday’ which unless our ears do deceive purrs to a Blondie-esque motif all effervescently teen thrilled in Lush like glazes. Gem like.