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The abbreviation 'DIY' is now loaded with political significance. Exemplary of the 'do it yourself' ideal were the label Rough Trade, who in their early incarnation provided an accessible alternative to artists who couldn't and/or outright refused to cooperate with major label interests. But not so much a seamless and interwoven narrative, DIY culture is an attitude that springs up, often in isolation, when there is no alternative. Though in the wake of the creatively all-encompassing internet, and the rise of home recording in tandem, 'doing it yourself' can mean a number of things. When you don't own a MacBook, Logic Pro or any recording equipment, you can feel quite closed off from a number of musical avenues. After all, home recording can get pricey. If you want to compete (especially if you want to sound 'contemporary'), you've got to be able to provide the whole package.

There are those contrary to such attitudes, musicians who would use any means to get their work heard. Musicians like Oliver Moss, who has just released his own standalone compilation of songs. As a teenage songwriter, Moss only had a Skype microphone to record with, and whatever instrumentation he could 'relieve' his musical pals of. He has chosen to release these recordings on the retrospective compilation Beach Bodies: 2008 - 2014 via the Brighton-based Memorials of Distinction, which is by all intents and purposes a lo-fi and cassette label. This is more of a compilation than a debut, spanning a good six years of bedroom songwriting, around and before working with his main band, Evans The Death.

So - what about the music? Is it any good? Can I soundtrack the very last summer holiday before full-time employment with this album? These are the more nagging questions.

The compilation begins with a brief intro, which kind of sets the tone. Don't bother prepping for the UK's slightly less overcast season with Beach Bodies.... This is the work of a musically ambitious teen, who pays no heed to weather forecasts or the cruel fact that black clothes absorb more heat than other colours. Your first induction into the album involves being greeted by drill noises, unknown rattlings and other related ambiences that wouldn't sound too out of place in a Japanese horror film. 'Intro' grinds to a halt at just under a minute and is followed by the less sinister single 'The Klingon Race'. As far as I can make out, this song is about refusing to stay in a Travelodge. As negative experiences go, Travelodges are up there, and so should be tapped into for more hard-hitting lyrical inspiration. Unfortunately though, and for whatever reason, Moss tends to drown out his lyrics with reverb. For the sake of style, it seems a shame that some fine moments of self deprecation and teenage melancholy get washed out here. Still - it's a really catchy song.

'Parish Council' is another lo-fi pop tune, a touch more whimsical than the last, but with still just enough sulk not to tip it over into tweeness. Think The Magnetic Fields' 'House of Tomorrow'-esque drum machines and vocal lines that can't be bothered to finish themselves. At eighteen tracks long, we've only just begun - and with extra material to boot,Beach Bodies... might seem bloated. Thankfully each song is as catchy as the last, and so provides a rewarding listen. 'Mild Detergent' showcases some nice low harmonies from Moss; he's a relaxed vocalist who doesn't give into histrionics. The track has a refreshingly melodic bassline too, high enough that it could have easily been recorded on a guitar, rather than a bass. It works, miraculously, alongside all the other strange junk-shop effects that Moss employs. 'Lame' creeps in during the last half of 'Beach Bodies...' is probably the most immediate track. It's the second single and effortlessly sounds like one. It all tapers off with the sprawling 'Lounger' and 'It Was Empty'. 'It Was Empty' in particular works well here, sounding like the last song on a film soundtrack.

Lo-fi records are often characterised as 'swirling', 'hazy', or 'grungy'. Pigeonholing this record into these adjectives, though, wouldn't really be doing it enough justice. It's quite relieving to know that someone out there is making lo-fi music that doesn't sound like a carbon copy of Dinosaur Jr. or Pixies. Moss instead has used his ramshackle recording studio to make his instruments sound pretty damn weird. It's a real show in how sometimes the best music happens when you have very little resources to hand. These are definitely the recordings of a teenager, in the best way imaginable; written before any cynicism of what is popular or sense of genre could interfere.

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