Electronics are the new orchestras, at least insofar as they allow a standard three-piece like Slow Runner to fold in layers of interior and pockets of depth that only studious listening can completely excavate. Michael Flynn articulates with Rufus Wainwright weight on every phrase, a romantic bit of overkill that adds a sense of urgency and pushes the songs to brinks they might not otherwise have. Slow Runner takes the atmospheric hugeness of a band like Sigur Rós and compresses it into snackier, Death Cab for Cutie-sized ballads. Piano and Wurlitzer refrains backbone most of the tracks, lending the music that cabaret ease as well as a necessary percussiveness that prevents the songs from being swept away into molten mood pieces. Fans from circles as far flung as the Flaming Lips and Counting Crows will find more than a few selections for break-up CD burns delivered in the pouring rain of No Disassemble.
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