Cheer Advisory Council – Distance

To be perfectly honest, I am fast running out of words to describe the music of Cheer Advisory Council. So protracted has the wait for this, their debut album, been that every little sound to trickle from their Bandcamp page in the last two years has provoked a flood of online hyperbole from yours truly, being the musically undernourished mutt that I am.

But alas, we soldier on and recycle adjectives where necessary. You see, the heart of Cheer Advisory Council lies with their front man Ben Revi, a local political scientist and keeper of the most enviable afro and beard combinations this side of ?uestlove. His intimate songwriting underpins ‘Distance’, knitting together wordy lyrics of sombre wit with with ornate, finger picked guitar melodies. Listening to the sparse opening of first track ‘Campfire’, you can’t help but feel like a fly on the wall as Revi sits in his bedroom, lightly picking at an acoustic guitar while an anonymous lady friend sleeps on. Kind of awkward I know, but thankfully Zac Coligan of The Sea Thieves is also there bowing his singing saw to ease the tension.

From this initial place of solitary reflection the Council expands dramatically, with the seven multi-tasking members wrapping Revi’s tunes in all sorts of choral harmonies, moody violin and the occasional dash of bassoon. The percussion is subtle yet drives where it has to, and the abundant piano throughout the record is the aural equivalent of a cool block of chocolate for your ears to dig into (a metaphor I’m not 100% sure will appeal to anyone but me, but no risk no reward). On paper such dense arrangements might appear overwhelming, but for the most part the various different elements manage to drop in and out of a song with enough space to avoid any claustrophobia.

The band have variously mentioned that the aim was to capture the sound of seven friends playing live in a room. While probably a move motivated by financial necessity as much as artistic spontaneity, this occasionally hit and miss approach largely leans to the former, creating a warm and coherent set of performances that effectively captures their carefully orchestrated live performances. Recorded with the ubiquitous Matt Hills (Fire! Santa Rosa, Fire!), the production is fairly unobtrusive and manages to frame the nuances of the instruments and Revi’s singing without the excessive sheen or lack thereof that Hillside’s output sometimes swings between.

It’s only penultimate track ‘Don’t Shift Focus’ that doesn’t quite gel. In spite of its confident arrangement there’s something about the vocal line on the oldest song on the album that misses the mature, wine-swilling whimsy successfully achieved on other tracks, resembling instead one of those super earnest Ben Folds songs you can’t quite bring yourself to like.

By contrast, closer Accomodating explodes like some kind of angsty, cacophonous church group, pairing a positively hymn-like refrain with a big, overdriven guitar solo, as if to remind listeners that while quietly sung laments and folk ruminations are great, this ensemble knows there’s nothing quite as cathartic as playing fucking loud.

Originally published on Hearplugs

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