By Matt Craig Burke
San Francisco natives, The Sandwitches, deliver their third LP, Our Toast. A folksy-filled release of ghostly harmonies and touching instrumentals, it is likely to make you say, “ahhh this is so girly”
“Sunny Side” creates the image of riding a ferris wheel during an autumn sunset with a handful of cotton candy. It’s deceptively cheerful with a hint of creepiness, making it sound untrustworthy. Somewhat agitated, “Play it again” goes into a PJ Harvey turn as it sludges along as if you’re crawling through sand. “Sleeping Practice” sounds extra spacious and minimalistic, tossing your ears little snacks of noise with vocals that dip down low and creep back up, giving off a Cat Power-type tone. “Dead Prudence” is heavenly haunting. Delightful while feeling so demented with no resemblance to The Beatles’ “Dear Prudence” as its cooing vocals, trembling guitar and drum hints as though its going to vanish into thin air or turn into dust.
At times, Our Toast feels as though the songs are going to take off, but they keep their cool, leaving you in a drop of frustration. There is also a certain spacious feeling that makes the album flutter on with it’s potential of lulling to you sleep while easing you into a bliss. True to this is “Island Jam” being lazy and effortless as it mutters in your ear offering tension without release. “Wickerman Mambo” wakes you up as it shuffles along. One can almost picture the band distantly playing at a rodeo in front of nobody again, sounding both light hearted and eerie. The album falls back to sleep on “Nothing but Love” as its gentle piano and clean guitars blend well with feathery vocals the melt the album to an end.
Our Toast is a carrousel of emotions. Delicate and cheery, yet eerie and dark you feel like you’re falling asleep but your heart is pounding. Just like drinking coffee before bed. Its a great album in small doses.