Tennis - Young & Old
Over the last 12 months there has been a veritable explosion of bands that remind us of happier, less stressful times. The more stressful the world gets the more we flock to bands with uplifting sunny side up names like Best Coast, Beach House, Surf City, Surfer Blood and a dreamy, retro sound that recalls the simpler, supposedly sunnier times of the 60s. Rose tinted hearing aids are the must have accessory for the music lover of 2012.
With the release of Young & Old, the follow up to last year's debut Cape Dory, Denver husband-and-wife duo Tennis serve up an AOR treat that could easily be an application to join the increasingly crowded retro pop scene. It's a more grown up record than their debut, the sound is fuller (Patrick Carney of the Black Keys produced), the hooks are sharper and the percussion beefier. With their sat-nav set to the middle of the road they've replaced the de rigueur surf pop moves of their debut with something a little more mainstream.
The album's first single 'Origins', with it's captivating guitar, girl group vocals and driving keyboards sounds like it's stormed out of a time capsule buried in 1958. If it was any catchier scientists would be frantically searching for an anti-dote. The second single from the album 'My Better Self' is soulful pop so radio friendly it'll fellate your aerial. Opening track ‘It All Feels The Same’ caresses the ears like a warm summer breeze while 'Dreaming' is so sweet one listen could induce a diabetic coma. It may be drizzling outside, the world may be going to hell in a handcart and the future may look bleak but whack Young & Old on the Ipod, close your eyes and you can almost convince yourself that everything is going to be ok.
With a name that conjures up images of strawberries and cream, emerald green grass, white flannel trousers and sunshine and an album full of sounds so retro they've been dipped in melamine, Tennis are clearly heading for centre court.
Purchase and listen
In early 2010 Tennis tiptoed into the blogosphere with ‘Marathon’, a hymn to the bubblegum era of high-school innocent romance, and since then Alania Moore’s sweetly monotone ooh-oohs and Patrick Riley’s jangly guitar became a trademark of their understated lo-fi sugarpop. [read more]
Producing a wonderful slab of sea air infused pop that stands up to Best Coast, Beach House and other nautical but nicely named US bands currently flying the lo-fi and chill wave flags is no mean feat. But to hail from a landlocked US city, shed your capitalist binds to save for a sailboat, live life exploring the Eastern seaboard for eight months and then return to produce a sweet sounding album based on the experience deserves an extra amount of mariner/musician kudos. The story of husba... [read more]
So word is that it's our last day of summer, our one week allowance of amazing sunshine per year is almost up, or so the doom-mongers are declaring anyway. If that's the case then I'm feeling pretty lucky that I'm spending my last summers-eve in the presence of the sweet Denver-based Tennis for some breezy, achy songs of yester-year. [read more]