(Warm Gospel, 2014)
Adolescence and growing up are wacky things to think about so far removed from them, but producer Skyscraper, aka Trey Reis, hasn’t had his fill of them quite yet. On K&L, just another ho-hum masterpiece chucked by the warmest of gospel labels Warm Gospel into the cassette tape landfill in an edition of 24, then an edition of 10 once the original 24 sold out, then an edition of NOTHING because you can’t get it anymore, Skyscraper lets his samples “ride out toward infinity” as he contemplates what it means to be suspended in memory and the visions that result therefrom. Coming across like a comforting blend of Tonstartssbandht and Monster Rally, Skyscraper merges soul and jazz and sixties/seventies pop and even hip-hop and buries it under layers of dust, like an artifact uncovered just in time for me to be fashionably late to the prom on the scratchy reel-to-reel film playing in my subconscious. This may sound positively Leyland Kirby–esque, and it’s not far removed, but K&L is certainly a little more jaunty in its pacing. Luney is our muse here, a “tall, dark-haired girl” met in a dream, and we dance and then we walk later in the creek that flows past the barn. We know this is not real, that this is all happening in reverie, because knowing my sense of equilibrium, I’d fall flat on my face into the water – I’m still up, gang, don’t worry about me!
Side A is called “Luney in Search of Eternal Youth Serum,” and we as listeners help her look for it through the passage of time, which takes its toll – side B is “Kiddo Sanity,” an exploration of one’s outlook once the present and future are ignored in favor of a constant longing for the past. Oh, yeah, that’s the sweet spot – the longing and the search are the process as well as the end, and we spiral into nothingness as the excitement and bliss of the chase becomes so overwhelming that we white out into oblivion. Not a depressing thought at all! It’s like we weirdly connect through the cosmic vibes, and therein lies hope and peace. So what if we never find what we’re seeking? So what if the end plays like the end of Aronofsky’s The Fountain? I’ll take that over darkness and oppression any day – the thrill is real and I’m feeling alive as K&L courses through my headphones. Join me on this trip, won’t you? We can watch home movies of my childhood together in the coziness of my cushy brain.
Sorry this little fella’s no longer available – but you can head over to Discogs to buy the only one for sale there! I don’t know what number it is. I have number 13. Unlucky?