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Boogie Night at the Edge of Town

by Post Moves

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Are we not, getting better? Did we quarrel over nothing? Did we rejoice when we said there... would be times, under the moon, that revert us back to infancy, to line-drawn cartoons... of our hearts falling out of our chests, into a hole in the ground, with a bib on, that reads; "Im a cavernous mess.” What is our nature? We fade more each time. Whether husky or diminutive, it’s a matter of the sadness that seems almost infinite. Tussle by our lonesome, gather for a round. Its a gun shot slinger, type of deal, to keep from goin' down. But here we are, on a skiff by the jetty. Buddy system is in place, we got snacks and supplies on the ready.
What turns this world on the shoulder and takes us home at night? Just as the thoughts collide; of how we're gonna get out of this one. By the skin of our teeth, an oil sprayed beach, where Micky used to surf and return the debt of his stress to this unpaid earth. It’s a salty flavor savor, with an aftertaste of how we'll love amidst this waste. We're burning up in these D-O-G days. We drift further. We shred the swell. Down the pipeline to a time. When I knew you well. Mick was takin her easy, a respite from the teasing. The waves were a reasonable healing, like to this world the market caps unfreezing. It’s a steady avalanche of the free market dance; one in which, Mick and Co. weren't built to last. So they're roastin one up behind the stands. When they come for his board, when they tell him he was told, he'll push off for Nautical Treasure Trove and with a tip of the lid he'll let this world go.
The days linger on, in the western world. Where the siren song plays from the TV mural. It’s all rearranged from the milieu maintained. Where we all a thread. Shoot...I had it for a moment. On and on and on again you pivot in the post, you finish at the rim. On and on and on again, remember who is close to you and hold them to the end. The sea swallows and foams, while we're at our homes, being torn and let asunder, while the sneaker wave carries us under. Contort and somersault, the pace of the waves comes to a halt. As the sun sets, I skip a stone into its big yellow stomach. Limiting the range of how we'll say "I love you", "I need you” our future days.
It won't take long. I'll clock it til it’s gone. The speed of light has never known the liking of this one. SO FAST, SO QUICK! A locomotive motor with an aerial spirit. But when we come down, we come down hard. Falling like an ember from a smoldering log. SO HOT, SO BRIGHT! Slicing through the core of earth like a buttered hot knife. We split...molecular the fabric, stitch it up... we're all trying to conceal our guts... from the ever shifting eyes... they'll hold you for a moment then release you from their sights. If we all cash in, what will be the fashion? Of a time and people in a rat race towards inaction. WHO KNEW?! SO COOL! But the stench of accrual doesn't mean its something new. We'll run the engine, until its gassed. We topped out then we dropped down to our last remaining gasp. AGHHHH AGHHHH! We're short of breath, we're counting steps, we're sitting this one out.
Hey Reg, I hear you got the touch. Well how much? To sharpen life's dullest moments? Do you promise? I've got a deal for you. I'd give it all away, for you. Do you consider yourself a lover? Does it make you wonder? About all the ways you can possibly love her. Take the one you love, spur the divisional properties of some and make it one. And bring into the fold, her mother and father and sister and all she loves. I break form, but I will not break hearts anymore.
I think about it all the time. How we shepherd our bodies and our minds... through a corn maze that whistles and whacks... as the corn stalks grow tall behind my back. Its harvest time again... so we hum along to "Four Strong Winds." It’s a country song from way back when. Here let me show ya, bring that pedal steel in. A scorched earth policy. A trash can fire jamboree. Did we get high on it being free? Stoned in bliss at the artifice. Where do our stories go? And to whom are we telling them for? Do we mimic the earth's gentle pattern? Or is it the pain and tumult that matter? As the earth splinters, we splatter... off our axis, what's the praxis? How we got here? In the bedlam of the bedrock there's a sign... now the season's coming and it’s harvest time.


What the hell is Americana, anyway? Wedged right between the luddite folkisms of Jack Rose and the modal movements of Jim O'Rourke, you might find Post Moves. A band who called their first tape Little Jews and who sound like Jandek backed by a funk band doesn’t sound like Americana, but when was the genre about fitting in? Post Moves make Americana about an America that makes no sense; pastoral, shambling and strange.

We last saw Post Moves in 2016’s Mystery World Science Show, a hushed collection of low-key groovers fit for nighttime drives. Now we have Boogie Night at the Edge of Town, eight tracks of homespun offbeat country, indie and experimental pop. We still hear Wenc’s obsession with ethereal slide guitars and with rambling stories-as-song. In Boogie Night, we find a bigger palette of sounds; harmoniums, bells, and choruses abound. The band found a sympathetic duo in recording engineers Kevin Christopher and Lahm Hiddendale, who took the band into their hideaway studio in Olympia, WA to coax out the album’s eight otherworldly tracks.

Boogie Night stages its drama on a grander scale than previous Post Moves outings. “What is our nature?” demands guitarist Sam Wenc throughout opening countrified meditation on existence, “The Cavern.” In the writing of Boogie Night, Wenc reflects “I found myself reaching for immersive, bodily to get lost in.” He found himself deep in the mantric (and manic) music of Tony Conrad and Sir Richard Bishop. Wenc’s guitar weeps cascading melodies over the mantric harmonium of “Reg” and through the Blind Owl Wilson influenced, “Harvest.”

Alongside labelmates like neo-drone act RON and the pop-imbued Layperson, Post Moves materialize as part of a larger concept of weirdo indie. Too un-American to be Americana, too gun-shy to be country, Post Moves emerge on Boogie Night wholly themselves, comparable only to their past records. - Mac Pogue


released July 7, 2017

Post Moves:
Sam Wenc: Guitar, Vocals, Pedal Steel, Synth
Nathaniel Kornet: Bass, Harmonium, Synth
Julian Morris: Drums, Vocals, Synth

Carl Laukkanen appears on "Reg"
Philip Grass appear on "The Boogie Down"

Design + Layout by Lobby Art
Recorded at Heavy Meadow in Olympia, WA by Kevin Christopher & Lahm Hiddendale
Mixed by River Nason
Mastered by Timothy Stollenwerk

Lobby Art // LA006


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Post Moves Massachusetts

sam wenc:
pedal steel, guitar, electronics, vibraphone and field recordings

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