|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
CD
|
|
TR 607CD
|
$16.50
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 3/13/2026
Double Exposure isn't a departure, necessarily, but this new album contains some of the rawest and most deconstructed sounds that James Hoare -- of Veronica Falls, Ultimate Painting and Proper Ornaments -- has recorded to date. Principally, and for the first time, the guitars take a back seat. It's not a "no guitar" concept album by any means; it's mostly just the way it came together. It would also be inaccurate to suggest the guitars have been banished altogether, especially after the dual six-string solo that rips through the speakers on the mighty album opener Regrets. Following 2024's gorgeous Backwater Collage debut LP under the Penny Arcade nom de plume, this is a hallucinogenic experience, and the backbone of Double Exposure is the drum machine that informed the songs. It's also an album of sweet duality. The album features flashes of guest appearances, but for the vast majority it is an album of solo experimentalism, with gestations that bubble to life across the stereo before fading back out again. The drum machines take center stage, playing out like In Rainbows-era Radiohead channeled through Silver Apples, a trip in three minutes that you can play on an infinite loop. Like so much of the album, it was recorded almost instantaneously, with a simplicity and rawness that heavy overdubs and meticulous arrangements could never achieve. It is an album high on vibe. Clicking drum machines and oozing organs interplay with different hues of guitar work, from the ragas of the George Harrison-esque "Early Morning" to the tripped-out, smoke-drenched "We Used to Be Good Friends." Double Exposure is an unfussy collection of songs. The album harks somewhere between the restless experimentation of Syd Barrett and the uninhibited analogue innovations of Tim Presley as White Fence. It very much is what it is.
|
|
|
Artist |
Title |
Format |
Label |
Catalog # |
|
|
LP
|
|
TR 607LP
|
$26.00
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 3/13/2026
LP version. Double Exposure isn't a departure, necessarily, but this new album contains some of the rawest and most deconstructed sounds that James Hoare -- of Veronica Falls, Ultimate Painting and Proper Ornaments -- has recorded to date. Principally, and for the first time, the guitars take a back seat. It's not a "no guitar" concept album by any means; it's mostly just the way it came together. It would also be inaccurate to suggest the guitars have been banished altogether, especially after the dual six-string solo that rips through the speakers on the mighty album opener Regrets. Following 2024's gorgeous Backwater Collage debut LP under the Penny Arcade nom de plume, this is a hallucinogenic experience, and the backbone of Double Exposure is the drum machine that informed the songs. It's also an album of sweet duality. The album features flashes of guest appearances, but for the vast majority it is an album of solo experimentalism, with gestations that bubble to life across the stereo before fading back out again. The drum machines take center stage, playing out like In Rainbows-era Radiohead channeled through Silver Apples, a trip in three minutes that you can play on an infinite loop. Like so much of the album, it was recorded almost instantaneously, with a simplicity and rawness that heavy overdubs and meticulous arrangements could never achieve. It is an album high on vibe. Clicking drum machines and oozing organs interplay with different hues of guitar work, from the ragas of the George Harrison-esque "Early Morning" to the tripped-out, smoke-drenched "We Used to Be Good Friends." Double Exposure is an unfussy collection of songs. The album harks somewhere between the restless experimentation of Syd Barrett and the uninhibited analogue innovations of Tim Presley as White Fence. It very much is what it is.
|
|
|
Artist |
Title |
Format |
Label |
Catalog # |
|
|
CD
|
|
TR 558CD
|
Hailing from a place of ancient mariners' secret coves and vast moors beaten by the wind and rain, Backwater Collage is James Hoare's first solo album under the name of Penny Arcade. Despite leaving London for the West country he grew up in, the Englishman is no stranger to the scene. He has been wandering around as if awakened from a long, not-so-peaceful sleep for some time now. You have most probably come across his washed-out blue eyes several times, in projects including Veronica Falls, The Proper Ornaments, and Ultimate Painting. For this dreamy, hand-stitched record, Hoare has taken his time. Maybe because he had to rescue his songs from various recording sessions tinged with a number of mishaps he amusedly admits he is accustomed to: broken multitracks, failing tape machines, rarely available drummers living in the capital. The eleven intimate and solitary songs which make up the album, delivered in the greatest home recording tradition, are nonetheless cautiously produced. James unfurls pure, uncluttered melodies in which his gentle, melancholic voice mingles with smooth, warm vocals by Nathalia Bruno. Barely saturated guitar solos sometimes disrupt the clear, unpolished musical line. Hopping onboard, longtime friend Max Claps has added keyboard parts which manage to embrace the minimal nostalgia of the tracks while preventing any teary pathos. Similar to Jack Name or Syd Barrett -- only less psychedelic -- in terms of songwriting and stripped back atmosphere, Hoare is sitting on the Velvet Underground's black-and-white sofa and gives his album a subterranean feel. At times restless but light-footed, deprived of any unnecessary effects, the record follows in the steps of a less noisy but just as raw and unadorned Jesus and Mary Chain. With Backwater Collage, alone at the helm under a stormy sky, James Hoare invites his listeners to settle in the sheltered comfort of a cup of tea.
|
|
|
Artist |
Title |
Format |
Label |
Catalog # |
|
|
LP
|
|
TR 558LP
|
LP version. Hailing from a place of ancient mariners' secret coves and vast moors beaten by the wind and rain, Backwater Collage is James Hoare's first solo album under the name of Penny Arcade. Despite leaving London for the West country he grew up in, the Englishman is no stranger to the scene. He has been wandering around as if awakened from a long, not-so-peaceful sleep for some time now. You have most probably come across his washed-out blue eyes several times, in projects including Veronica Falls, The Proper Ornaments, and Ultimate Painting. For this dreamy, hand-stitched record, Hoare has taken his time. Maybe because he had to rescue his songs from various recording sessions tinged with a number of mishaps he amusedly admits he is accustomed to: broken multitracks, failing tape machines, rarely available drummers living in the capital. The eleven intimate and solitary songs which make up the album, delivered in the greatest home recording tradition, are nonetheless cautiously produced. James unfurls pure, uncluttered melodies in which his gentle, melancholic voice mingles with smooth, warm vocals by Nathalia Bruno. Barely saturated guitar solos sometimes disrupt the clear, unpolished musical line. Hopping onboard, longtime friend Max Claps has added keyboard parts which manage to embrace the minimal nostalgia of the tracks while preventing any teary pathos. Similar to Jack Name or Syd Barrett -- only less psychedelic -- in terms of songwriting and stripped back atmosphere, Hoare is sitting on the Velvet Underground's black-and-white sofa and gives his album a subterranean feel. At times restless but light-footed, deprived of any unnecessary effects, the record follows in the steps of a less noisy but just as raw and unadorned Jesus and Mary Chain. With Backwater Collage, alone at the helm under a stormy sky, James Hoare invites his listeners to settle in the sheltered comfort of a cup of tea.
|
|
|
|