cokemachineglow.com reviews “With A Lark’s Tongue End” by Damian Valles from Skeleton Taxa
Damian Valles: “With A Lark’s Tongue End”
From Skeleton Taxa (Drifting Falling; 2011)Canadian bit player Damian Valles must have a sideline in carpentry—it’s the one of the only ways he’d know what the term “lark’s tongue end” means. The other, the fact it’s a 1973 concept album by prog-rockers King Crimson, hasn’t resulted in either a single lute or sun god making it to Valles’ debut for Drifting Falling, Skeleton Taxa. Having cut his teeth jamming with math rock bands and then broken away into electronics, Valles’ full-length crams in everything he’s learned, overlapping ideas where necessary and sometimes achieving the Ham & Swiss effect. His steady hand throughout only serves to confirm his secret woodwork identity: if he asks anyone to piss on timber shavings in order to keep them from combusting in strong sunlight, you’ll know he’s well-trained in Benchwork.
“With A Lark’s Tongue End” combusts in its own way, spreading from cafe noises, strings, guitars, and Spaghetti Western scores to build a countdown to something momentous. Imagine Labradford equipped with castanets, or post-rock putting on flamenco trousers—it’s an original sound Valles has been honing, respectfully honouring the waitresses who wiped his table down by using saucer chinks as percussion. As mandolins bray and the track climbs and climbs then fades into tapping chopsticks, you’re left pumped and wondering what it is he was waiting for that needed such a lead-in. Probably staining some antique furniture. That paste wood filler takes ages to dry.
Canadian bit player Damian Valles must have a sideline in carpentry—it’s the one of the only ways he’d know what the term “lark’s tongue end” means. The other, the fact it’s a 1973 concept album by prog-rockers King Crimson, hasn’t resulted in either a single lute or sun god making it to Valles’ debut for Drifting Falling, Skeleton Taxa. Having cut his teeth jamming with math rock bands and then broken away into electronics, Valles’ full-length crams in everything he’s learned, overlapping ideas where necessary and sometimes achieving the Ham & Swiss effect. His steady hand throughout only serves to confirm his secret woodwork identity: if he asks anyone to piss on timber shavings in order to keep them from combusting in strong sunlight, you’ll know he’s well-trained in Benchwork.
“With A Lark’s Tongue End” combusts in its own way, spreading from cafe noises, strings, guitars, and Spaghetti Western scores to build a countdown to something momentous. Imagine Labradford equipped with castanets, or post-rock putting on flamenco trousers—it’s an original sound Valles has been honing, respectfully honouring the waitresses who wiped his table down by using saucer chinks as percussion. As mandolins bray and the track climbs and climbs then fades into tapping chopsticks, you’re left pumped and wondering what it is he was waiting for that needed such a lead-in. Probably staining some antique furniture. That paste wood filler takes ages to dry.