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It's not just their personality that recommends them. It's the tunes, mate. Just listen to the new-wave polka-soul-serenading madness of "Gold Rush," the toe-tapping Italo-mutation of "Sgt Sierra," the easy-listening doom-incantation of "Gilligan" … every song on the record is a bon-a-fide catastrophe for the forces of predictability and boredom.
DEEP TIME are that kind of rare phenomenon that is easy to miss in the modern rock carnival because they don't wear kabuki make-up or pour PBR on their head. Their bandwagon isn't a monster truck or a garish tour bus with a broken toilet, so you might not see it parked outside of the club. Still, jump on when it drives by. It's a sweet ride.
Deep Time go against the current indie grain of smoke machine atmospherics and stadium-sized dreams in favor of something much more streamlined. The nine songs on their self-titled album are well-designed contraptions, as simple, madcap, and proudly anachronistic as Rube Goldberg machines.
All girl group reference points, subtle as they were, are completely vanquished from the band's sound, replaced with slinky melodies and metered, calculated playing from both Moore and her multi-instrumentalist partner Adam Jones. The result is a minimal sound not created through instrumental sparsity but through the haunting sense of detachment that carries the songs.
Exploring her voice the way Frith explored the guitar, [Jennifer Moore] produces all manner of non-verbal sounds: yelps, howls, screams. She delivers her lyrics with equal innovation. Listening to her bruised timbre, skewed diction and swimming harmonies is like hearing beautiful songs in a foreign language. It is easy to let the sounds wash over you, but you miss out by doing so.
They’ve created something special here; equally steeped in the past and of the moment; breathing its own peculiar air, but with pop instincts strong enough to appeal to someone with no reference point for this at all. Welcoming and unique, this is one of the best debuts in recent memory.
Moore and Jones' friendship is going on eight years; they live across the street from each other, and their closeness shows: Moore, who was the best man at Jones' wedding, has a curly flop of hair that looks a lot like Jones'. "It's like if we were both best friends in second grade and we both rode horses and we both had the topsy tail in our hair."