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Isidore review roundup

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hitspacebar	Isidore review roundup	Lead	[-]
Glow Worm Posts: 63 (11/05/2008 17:35) Maven Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Tags : kilbeyside Remove this ad I just ordered and received Isidore from Karmic Hit. They sent an additional CD single with "Andalusian Dogs" and "Mitternight" on it. Does anyone have any info on these tracks? Leftovers? Outakes? Anyone have reviews of Isidore? I searched this site and found nothing. Hitspacebar, Bob Last Edited By: chrome3D 11/08/2008 21:55. Edited 2 times.
chrome3D		#1	[-]
Posts: 5335 (11/07/2008 20:31) Faith Healer Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	I searched too and there was many topics about Isidore but no song-by-song review etc. That search-thingy on top usually brings out nothing. The tags just above the topics are quite useful for this forum. Isidore would be found under "+kilbeyside". Maybe there has been enough time and somebody may write a thorough Isidore-review. Wait and see. Your post reminded me that you should always go for the source. I purchased my Isidore copy from other source than KH and never got that bonus-single. Maybe I have to buy it again just to get those. Funny that they still have it.
chrome3D	hybrid heather space	#2	[-]
Posts: 5335 (11/07/2008 20:33) Faith Healer Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	From hybridmagazine.com by heather space. http://www.hybridmagazine...eviews/0704/isidore.shtml ---------------------------------------------------------- When word got around three years ago that The Church's primary vocalist/wordsmith Steve Kilbey was collaborating on a project with guitarist Jeffrey Cain of (the now sadly defunct) Remy Zero, the anticipation level of fans who have loyally followed the careers of both bands was perhaps a step beyond "high." Some musical pairings make elemental sense, particularly when they are kindred spirits set a generation apart; both acolytes of organically textured guitar rock that transcends, as much as it lays itself bare to the human condition. Remy Zero may have been more anthmetic than the Church ever could -- or would -- be (see their last album, the fine, if overproduced, The Golden Hum), but there's no denying the influence the Australian band has had in Cain's guitar-playing. Break out a copy of 1998's masterful Villa Elaine and look past Cinjun Tate's stunning vocals, and you have a bed of incandescent, spacious guitar that even allows the stretch between notes to speak. So what exactly do you get when an American instrumentalist ships a batch of songs to an Australian singer-songwriter? Well, if the Isidore Manifesto (available on the band's website) is indicative of the result, you don't get "music to communicate that which can be communicated" or "describe that which can be described." In short, these guys want you to sort this out for yourself, which puts the reviewer in the odd position of verbally describing that which cannot be verbally described. But here it goes. Beginning with the snap of a drum machine and a monochrome guitar line, opener "Musidora" at first seems cast in gray, like a lumbering, northern bound train. Kilbey's vocals slide in as a far-off point of interest on the landscape, and then it happens: a sunburst of chiming acoustic guitar and a tiny, intimate smile in the chorus. "My little special, total extravaganza, like a summer night..." Gray gives way to light, and you realize you may have just heard the first outright love song Steve Kilbey has written in his twenty-five year career. (Unless you count the lullaby-esque "Glow Worm" from the Church's Hologram of Baal -- an ode to his daughters.) It's a captivating start to an album that often delves into more nebulous territory -- territory Kilbey fans are more than accustomed to, but may surprise Remy Zero fans expecting the softer edges of even the darker fare of Cain's former band. (Songs like "Hollow", "Bitter", and more than a few from the self-titled Remy Zero, still feature the innate luminosity of Tate's vocals.) Those acquainted with Cain's Sleepwell project with former RZ drummer Gregory Slay won't be as startled by the razor-sharp textures glimmering here and there, or the full-bodied roll of a drum machine underscoring songs like "One For Iris Doe." And whether one is familiar with either man's past work or not, there's no denying the shine of the eleven songs presented here in aural widescreen; each unfolding in defined flashes of vivid, keen-edged brilliance. "Refused (On Temple St.)" is all misty, muted acoustics and inherent melancholia, Kilbey singing of dripping hedges, blurry edges, and a possible betrayal (or is it the spurning of a former lover? friend?), as the tiniest electronic effect evokes the sound of tires on wet pavement. It's one of Cain's many sonic touches that add skillful nuance to the mood of Isidore. The sweeping, cinematic "The Memory Cloud" is a plane of sparse soundscape dotted by echoing backing vocals and post-apocalyptic imagery, elevated by a searing, and all-too-short, guitar bridge that ups the emotional ante into lovely, aching heights. For anyone worried that in the midst of playing everything, Cain would put less emphasis on the instrument he's most known for, fear not. His guitar-playing has rarely sounded as pure and crystalline, as emotive and torrid, and yet, as restrained in its use. This is not a guitar-driven record. Nor is it an electronic one. Rhythm is definitely a cornerstone of this music, but not necessarily the centerpiece. Guitars act like back-up singers, accentuating but never overwhelming, and when they do rise from the ether, it serves a purpose other than filling time. Cain's musical fusion is a perfect balance, allowing two songs to co-exist within the same space with seamless cohesion, but still leaving certain elements slightly askew, like a small warp in the glass. And that's what makes the music so all-encompassing. Cain's arrangements also push Kilbey into intense lyrical juxtapositions: "One For Iris Doe" (get it? Iris Doe? Isidore?) features a haunting refrain ("Sun in the west sky, moon in the east, morning comes and changes everything..." -- a reference to the great distance over which this project came to fruition?) amongst some pretty hostile lingua franca, a good portion of which sounds improvised to these ears, and delivered in the same sing-speak that Kilbey's shown a fondness for in the past. It's a pattern we see again in "CA. Redemption Value", which opens with a spoken "hellfire and damnation" spiel straight out of Pat Robertson's speech book -- all pompous verbosity ("great goodnesshood"? HA!) and social/political reference ("shock and awe"). Even after multiple listens, it seems an odd fit for the ensuing song, which is another example of the sheer space this album encompasses in one's head and ears -- another serene melody carrying you to the song's shore, and just when you're being lulled into a dreamy (if slightly unsettling) repose, the surf surges you into a strangling hurricane of boiling commentary and some of Kilbey's most viciously clever wordplay. "Where is the boy who looks after the flock? Down on his knees sucking a clock" will surely go down as one of his greatest lines. And Christ, does he sing on this record. The past few years have seen Steve Kilbey truly "coming into" his voice; willingly pushing his vocals to places his early works rarely went. Always a master at turning a phrase, he's now fearlessly pushing his boundaries, and the result is often emotionally shattering: the slight hiccup on "Austin Lancer" in "Musidora", the quiet urgency of "Ghosting", the entire goddamn chorus of the astounding "Sanskrit"... "Transmigration" is heart-wrenching, each word loaded with the weariness its narrator speaks of: "Oh my God, baby, I'm so fucking tired..." You hear a song like this and can't help but wonder how this deep into his career he can still write words this breathtakingly immediate, let alone sing them ten times better than he would have ten years ago. "Saltwater" is saturated with Bondi Beach's coastal influence (Kilbey's current home), but punctuated by Cain's skittery drum loop that is all but claustrophobic, lending an air of uncertainty to what seems like an almost droll narrative. The backwards guitar and keyboard drone of "Ghosting" create a hyper urban feel, while the vocals whisper along the sidewalks. The afore-mentioned "Sanskrit" is euphoria-in-motion, even with its lyrical bruises and tears, bringing to mind reincarnation (a theme also hinted at in "The Memory Cloud"): "Yesterday's gone and it's better that way...written in Sanskrit again" hints at the beginning of a new cycle, being rewritten into being. There is a recurring theme of time on this record, of days and months and years, seasons and clocks; references to children, and seeds, and (maybe) dying. Listed closer "Nothing New" has the feel of a tale from long ago, a lullaby of regret, both gauzy and oddly matter-of-fact in tone, yet not without humor: "The hotel man from Turkistan, soaking up the rays, I wish I'd been a woman then, I might've been amazed." It plays as one of the album's most touching, and honest, moments. Hidden track "No Passage" has the depth of Gregory Slay's martial drumming, Cedric LeMoyne's (also late of Remy Zero) expert touch on bass, Cain's plaintive guitar, and ethereal backing vocals by John Kilbey (who also produced the vocal tracks) underscoring a story-song that weaves all of the silver threads before it into a shimmering, accomplished coda. Those who pre-ordered Isidore from Karmic Hit were treated to a bonus CD featuring two tracks that didn't make the album proper -- "Andalusian Dogs" and "Mitternight." It's a shame they weren't included, as both deserve the same attention as any track that was; but on the other hand, giving them their own disc lets you absorb them in all their, well..."goodnesshood." "Mitternight" has a twilight intro that morphs into a frantic, half-mad adrenaline rush of witchy symbolism and overriding temptation. "Dogs" surges forward with embattled zeal, nearly epic in its proportions, playing out like its own mini-legend. And listen to that helicopter sound! Yet another example of Cain-Kilbey symbiosis. Evoking older projects in a review is obviously meant to provide a context, but referencing former Kilbey projects like Refo:mation or Jack Frost, or even his solo record Remindlessness, seems lazy and trite, because this is the first album of his that those comparisons didn't immediately come to mind. Plus, it's short-changing the obvious blood, sweat, and balls of Jeffrey Cain, who took a chance on sending that first song across an ocean, and who has created a challenging sonic pallet of sensual and carnal beauty. There's something fresh, revitalized, and altogether different about Isidore...but seeing as it is music that cannot be pinpointed, be grateful it is music that can be listened to and adored. *- Heather Space* Last Edited By: chrome3D 11/07/2008 20:38. Edited 1 times.
chrome3D	Faster louder Luke	#3	[-]
Posts: 5335 (11/07/2008 20:37) Faith Healer Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	A rewiew by Luke from fasterlouder.com: http://www.fasterlouder.com.au/p/np/view.php?id=784 -------------------------------------------- Convoluted work processes can often produce unlistenable records. It's true: experimentalism, rule-based composition, cut-ups and general arsing about in the studio have sometimes brought something curiously essential to light. But mostly, such efforts sound more like indulgence than an item of interest. But where others have failed, Steve Kilbey (of The Church fame) and Jeffrey Cain (formerly of Remy Zero) have succeeded. They've also managed to deliver one of those Sunday afternoon albums that evoke a happily tired thoughtfulness from the listener. Indeed, the change that this project has brought on its progenitors makes it onto the album. We've been searching Out in places never seen Yeah, we've been looking Lookin' like a change of scene sings Kilbey on Musidora, a sort of opening statement of how off the map for both musos the creation of this disc was. (Not to mention being the most dreamily gauzy love song ever written to mention pawn-shop Fender guitars and Austin Lancers in the same breath.) It's all the more telling once you discover that this was a disc that was recorded via long-distance, with Cain producing the music and Kilbey laying down vocals in response to pictures he was sent, along with the tunes. Aptly, Isidore - amongst other meanings - is a Spanish saint who's now the patron saint of the Internet. Perhaps the gods were watching as the two bandmates toiled in separate countries. Certainly, what's created here verges, at times, on the divine. The delicate filigree of Kilbey's writing pairs perfectly with Cain's musical palette. Perhaps it's because there's so much of The Church's teardrops-and-glitter style over the songs, but there's a true sense of coming together, of a meeting of musical minds exploring the same directions. The grand gesture looms large in what's recorded on Isidore: The Memory Cloud's almost martial descriptions of a dour history (all plangent bass and echoed drumwork) are married with soaring vocal riffs of an almost operatic nature. It's a pairing that works in these hands - others wouldn't be quite so lucky. Widescreen sounds are pulled off with subtlety and aplomb. Given that it's neither entirely guitar-based - though there's plenty of meaty axework here - nor entirely constructed from a box of electronics, the album comes across as a sort of intercontinental hangover. There's the feeling of wooziness - something long-time fans of The Church will be more than familiar with - dripping across the disc. And while it's often particularly layered, there's also moments of more simplistic beauty. As Kilbey sings, Tiny little flints produce tiny little sparks - something Cain's music sometimes takes on. It's the little touches here that occasionally makes this album a king hit in a velvet glove. Refused On Temple Street is perhaps one of the most lazily beautiful songs of recent years. A thumbnail sketch of dissolution, of a power-shift, played out beneath intertwined guitars - one gently, insistently strumming, the other so liquid it could be oozing out of the speakers. And while there's a directness, a reportage almost that's a departure for Kilbey's vocals - And you talk about our time together And it seemed so long ago How'd you ever get to be so enchanting and so low? - there remains a sense (as ever) of obliqueness to the lyrics here. It's difficult to find out exactly what's going on - meaning in the song keeps slipping along, "a little blurry at the edges", just like the characters down on the street of the title. Multitracked, ghostly voices perform a wordless, beckoning backing to the tune, which marries personality-free drum-machine rigidity with guitarwork that sounds so liquid that it could well be dripping out of the speakers. There's something of a less-overwrought Cure in the sound. Mystery dominates - snatches of just-heard conversation drift by, just before the main vocal sadly speaks to beware the cinder that glows - it's burning more than you suppose. There's an overwhelming feeling of regret over what might have been, of disappointment - but not a glumness. Melancholia? Sure; but there's no sadness, just a sort of breeze-filled emptiness. It's a departure, given the sort of tendency for miserablism that some of the bands working in the more emotional side of things often have. Part of the appeal of Isidore is also its most frustrating feature. Steve Kilbey's writing is, perhaps, more open at this point than it's ever been. There's a sense of honesty which, while it's always been apparent in his work, is a little more naked than before. Vocals are pushed more - there's a lot of chances taken with the songs, and they pay off in spades when they work well - but they're also hidden, darting around corners and slipping out before you can fully grasp what's been said. Textually open and sometimes obscure in execution, it's tricky, and somewhat annoying at times, but the lush descriptions of the ephemeral are so juicy, so intriguing that it's difficult to hold a grudge about it. In terms of mature, layered songwriting and performance, many of the tracks on Isidore are light-years ahead of anything that U2 have produced of late. It might sound strange to reference the stadium-show band in the same breath as something as low-key as Isidore, but it's an apt comparison. Why? At the height of their powers - think of the expansive Achtung Baby (and beyond) excursions into textured sound - the band gestured towards tunes like Isidore's Sanskrit. Perhaps it's just that Kilbey's vocals here attain the same 4am solipsistic investigative burr as Bono most comprehensively, but the literate nature of both singers' lyrics makes the pairing seem right somehow. "Yesterday's gone and it's better that way" is a line repeated over and over throughout - a sort of tribute to a dissolution of the self, of a loss of past. A rootlessness is evoked through the e-bowed guitar undulations across the track, as the singer talks about trying to regain what's done, played off against the concept of what sounds like predestination. Meditative is probably the word you'd use to describe it, and it translates well for the whole album - this is a thoughtful, mature work with all of the introspection, but none of the self-indulgent navel-gazing. The album also features a hidden track, entitled No Passage. It's not hidden at the end of a normal track, thankfully - it's got its own index marker, but no track-listing mention. It's possibly included because it shows more of a "band" dynamic than the rest of the tracks here, at least in its recording. The only song on the album to have a writing team that's not just Kilbey and Cain, it's important because it features the input of other musos in the recording, too - Gregory Slay on drums and Cedric Lemoyne on bass and possibly indicates that the project might expand and become a more tourable collective. Again, though, the disc's dominant concept of change, and of the precious, fleeting nature of the everyday comes to the fore, with the line I woke up in Rozelle Or maybe I died conveying just how the mundane and the massive can be swapped with ease, as well as giving another dose of Sydney-centricity to the disc. (Listen to Saltwater and tell me that's not a love song to Bondi and a particular denizen of that beach suburb.) Continuing, the listener's treated to what seems like a fairly important peek inside Kilbey's mind at the current time. I got myself together Transcended my limitations Some folks in the ether Heard my lamentations Touched by an angel? Maybe. But it's hopeful, moreso than much of that musician's past tunes. There's missteps along the course of this album - some of the rhyme schemes of One For Iris Doe sound a bit dodgy, even though it does include the word "mate" in its bag of tricks (Ben Affleck? Aw, Steve…) - but more importantly there's the sense of there being something to look forward to. A positive note is heard ringing through this album, no matter how much sadness or regret might be flowing around. And it's beautiful. Creating a review for Isidore is perhaps a bit of a fool's errand. Their label's website doesn't list a bio, or have a gallery or any of the trappings you'd expect. Instead, there's a manifesto that claims that the duo doesn't make music to describe what can be described, as well as rejecting the trappings of braying criticism. But what's been produced as a result is too good to keep hidden. With Isidore, Kilbey and Cain have produced a precious rarity. It's an album that's so intensely personal in its nature that it sounds like it was never intended to be heard by ears other than those of its creators - indeed, at times the sensation one feels while listening is the same guilty, about-to-be-caught shade of emotion that might be experienced while reading others' mail. But it's an album that's also immensely, compulsively listenable. A rainy-day soundtrack of breathless beauty, this is the sort of album you want to tell people about… but you'll pause before you do, mentally debating whether you really want to share something so lovely with anyone else. Serve with rain, big cups of tea and a melancholy that you can't quite shake.
chrome3D	Splendid arim karim nezar	#4	[-]
Posts: 5335 (11/07/2008 20:43) Faith Healer Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	By Arim Karim Nezar from Splendid Magazine: http://www.splendidezine....eviewid=11089837241426063 ------------------------------------------------ Isidore is a peculiar -- but these days, not altogether uncommon -- entity. Crafting their self-titled album across sometimes expansive distances, a la Gibbard and Tamborello, Jeffrey Cain (of Remy Zero) and Steve Kilbey (of The Church) spent many months exchanging the ideas that would eventually crystallize in this collection of haunted tracks. They were obviously made with care and consideration, forming a weighty expanse of ethereal pop that sounds like it was recorded in a blacklit cathedral. Isidore is not so much experimental as it is somewhat bizarre; folky acoustic guitars and melodies collide with glitches, cavernous swells of synthetic sounds and understated electric guitars. You'd expect such a mix to be strange and jarring, but Isidore's arrangements are impeccably organized and naturally fluid. Kilbey's vocals, frayed and dusty, mingle perfectly with Cain's delicate songs, matching their listless instrumentation with smoky romanticism. Cain's melodies are nearly bulletproof, quickly establishing themselves as the songs' backbones, winding through various paces and rhythms with ease. Kilbey never falls behind, his confident voice doing serious melodic work to fully flesh out each track. The album's production is flawless, isolating the driving elements in each arrangement and lending them a gently worn feel. Plenty of highlights mark the album's unconventional, lugubrious path. "Sanskrit" is the most remarkable of them, a perfect dark pop song that's most reminiscent of The Verve's A Northern Light. It not only navigates a superb melody in a blurred forest of synthetic strings, acoustic guitars and programmed percussion, but swells with a magnificent chorus and a beautiful guitar hook, then transitions into a deeply complex, electronics-heavy bridge. "Transmigration"'s angelic electric riff makes a similarly profound impact, and its chorus melody is as strong as you'll find in any pop song. "Ghosting", warmly wrapping its Dntel-like glitch pop around bursts of reverse-looped guitar, makes an unexpected shift into an echoing piano-led chorus, subtly insinuating a lovely keyboard melody into its ambling instrumentation. Kilbey's lyrics, a combination of surreal images and deeply felt emotions, are the cherry on top of tracks like "Nothing New", in which he croons "The feeling was absent / The red wine was blue / The gift is the present / But that's nothing new to you / Oh now it's all for nothing." In general, two things stand out about Isidore: first, that the enmeshing of Kilbey's contributions with Cain's doesn't sound like the product of mail-order songwriting at all; second, unlike The Postal Service's Give Up, it's almost perfectly consistent. Only once does its hypnotic flow break, and that's with the strange, semi-political and unnecessary monologue that opens "CA. Redemption Value". Its ensuing, steadily building arrangement would've sounded complete on its own, as Kilbey cryptically sings "Christ / I need some new advice / This is an old device / It's for the lucky guys." Other than that single jarring moment, Isidore weave a completely entrancing web in which each new element shakes their shimmering threads of melody and atmosphere like a heart tremor. Hoping for the continuation of purported one-off projects like this one can be a futile affair, but the vast compositional talent and emotional heft that Isidore brings to bear warrants that hope; it's one of the best, most unique collaborations you'll hear. Yeah, it's even better than Give Up. -- Amir Karim Nezar
chrome3D	www.starstruckmagazine.com	#5	[-]
Posts: 5335 (11/07/2008 20:45) Faith Healer Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	www.starstruckmagazine.com - ISIDORE Review THE BIRTH OF ISIDORE Steve Kilbey of The Church and Jeffrey Cain of Remy Zero Collaborate Self-Titled Album to be Released October 12, 2004 Two of alt-rock's most influential unsung heroes, The Church's Steve Kilbey and Remy Zero's Jeffrey Cain, have created a masterpiece on opposite sides of the world without stepping into a studio together. The result, Isidore in album title and band name, is a fascinating ten-song (eleven if you include the hidden track) excursion into the layered and textured minds of Kilbey and Cain. Isidore will be released October 12, 2004 in the U.S. on Brash Music. As vocalist, songwriter and bassist of the seminal alt-guitar band, The Church, Kilbey traipsed through the last two and a half decades, releasing critically-acclaimed album after album. The band saw huge mainstream success with their 1988 breakthrough Starfish that spawned the hits "Reptile" and "Under a Milky Way." "Isidore started as a correspondence or a conversation between Steve and me," says Cain. A fan of Kilbey's, Cain was a successful musician in his own right. As guitarist for Remy Zero, Cain had seen his band through successes of critically-hailed records and even incidental acclaim through their song "Save Me" which is the theme song to the WB's #1 television show, "Smallville". "While Steve was touring America with The Church, his guitarist Marty Willson-Piper passed him a copy of an instrumental I had written," Cain explains of the origins of Isidore. "The song was a 'thank you' for years of inspiration. I received a call from Steve that evening, saying that he had finished lyrics. We booked a studio before he left for the next show and cut the vocals to the song which turned out to be 'Transmigration'." With timing not ever being on their side, Cain was playing a Remy Zero gig while Kilbey was in the studio. By the time the show was over, Kilbey was on his way to his next Church show in San Francisco. What started out to be a single song turned into a full-fledged record with parcels of music being sent back and forth between Kilbey in Australia and Cain in Los Angeles. "We did however finally sit down at his home in Sydney and listen to the final mix," laughs Cain. "We had a smoke and a drink and stamped our approval." Isidore is an exploration of textures, layers, and deeply personal ideas and melodies. Sounding at times like a combination of both The Church and Remy Zero, while simultaneously sounding like neither, the album flows from the rhythmic "Ghosting," to the meanderingly soothing "Transmigration," to the soaring, guitar-driven opening track "Musidora," without losing its continuity or rhythm. "I hope that Isidore reminds people of the beauty that exists in this world. I hope Isidore is a door… to all who have been left behind, and to those who remember the way," Cain concludes enigmatically, which is the beauty behind Isidore. Upfront and personal, yet gauzy and mysterious, Isidore is an enigma, one that Kilbey and Cain hope you can crack. "I hope you hear Isidore. I know your grandchildren will."
chrome3D	Amir Nezar, cokemachineglow.com	#6	[-]
Posts: 5335 (11/08/2008 21:53) Faith Healer Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Remove this ad Amir Nezar once again, this time for cokemachineglow.com http://www.cokemachineglo...record_review/742/isidore Oh so much noise has been made over The Postal Service --- indie pop wedded to glitch, you say? Surely not! And everyone exalted Ben Gibbard and Dntel for what turned out to be…an inconsistent, only sporadically excellent album. Frankly, both Death Cab for Cutie's best moments, and Dntel's landmark Life is Full of Possibilities, trumped Give Up. More broo-ha-ha should be made for Isidore's self-titled debut. Its creation follows the same lines as Gibbard/Tamborello's mail-order back-and-forth songcraft, but, as opposed to The Postal Service's debut, it's better than either of its contributor's bands: namely, Jeffrey Cain's Remy Zero and Steve Kilbey's Church. The crystallization of Cain and Kilbey's collaboration (Kilbey on vox, Cain as arranger), is a meticulous effort, sharp in arrangement and lugubrious in emotional effect. It's a dark, pop-twisted gem that shimmers and suffocates at once. Folky vibes, acoustic guitars, cavernous synth swells, and poignant electric guitars forge an unholy union in Isidore's melodic, blacklit church. The pairing of Kilbey's frayed and hazed vocals with Cain's delicate songs is a match made in the heaven of a slanted universe; Kilbey's weary hurt bleeds into Cain's instrumental smoky romanticism naturally and fluidly. The melodies, both vocal and instrumental, that the duo wed to their unique arrangements are often bulletproof, serving to ground the occasional sonic vertigo into which the album's songs deliciously slip. "Sanskrit" (click to hear), the best example of that airtight marriage, finds its way through a dense landscape of synthetic strings, acoustic guitars, and programmed percussion by following the bright light of its sterling melody. Its chorus is a terrific swell of vocals and an electric guitar hook, and its deeply complex electronic-dominated bridge follows the song's more organic choruses without any disjoint. Ultimately, the duo's careful choices are what really cement the strength of the album. "Transmigration"'s nearly-collapsing chorus melody not only requires careful attention from its listener, but its construction must have been similarly careful on Cain's part. "Ghosting" makes a stylistic shuffle into Dntel-esque glitch pop, but wraps it around reverse-looped guitar bursts, and then unexpectedly shifts into a beautiful echoing piano-led chorus. And thankfully, Kilbey avoids lyrical blunders like Gibbard's painfully prominent "There was no mystery / About who shot John F. Kennedy." Mostly he keeps to surreal images and deeply (but articulately expressed) emotions. On "Nothing New," he hauntingly croons, "The feeling was absent / The red wine was blue / The gift is the present / But that's nothing new to you / Oh now it's all for nothing." Not only does Isidore sound as though Kilbey and Cain recorded it over months in the same studio, but its quality is nearly perfectly consistent. The duo break the hypnotic flow of the album only once, and it stands out the jarring point in the abum; on "CA. Redemption Value," they open the track with a terrible semi-political monologue that's proven completely unnecessary by the strength of the track's ensuing arrangement. Kilbey does make up for the misstep with some biting lyrics ("Christ / I need some new advice / This is an old device / It's for the lucky guys"), and helps to temper its impact on an otherwise strong whole. All of which is merely more reason to hope that this apparent "one-off" project has a longer shelf-life than its initial conception would suggest. Thankfully, while we wait for The Postal Service to release something other than cash-milking singles from their two-year-old debut, Isidore's self-titled should capture everyone's attention as the superior collaboration. It doesn't merely offer promise; it arrives fully-formed and confident, hefty in emotional impact and expert in execution. Amir Nezar :: 23 February 2005
glynnisjohns		#7	[-]
Glow Worm Posts: 79 (11/10/2008 10:10) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Damn it all, i want those songs. I purchased my Isidore from a local independent record store. Nuts to that. -glynnis
jeffmo		#8	[-]
Maven Posts: 28 (05/05/2010 03:22) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Thanks for pulling these reviews together. I saw an SK interview recently by Heather Space on the web about this project, and actually found the album on iTunes here in the US to my surprise. Did everyone catch on SKs blog that Jeffrey Cain gave Steve some more music. So it looks like we can look forward to K/K part 2 and Isidore part 2 as well. Good times to be a Church fan! Last Edited By: jeffmo 05/05/2010 03:32. Edited 1 times.
Oceanic Blues	Andalusian Dogs and Mitternight MP3's	#9	[-]
Snowfaller Posts: 420 (07/17/2010 07:47) Glow Worm Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Hello Chrome and Glynnis: Totally by random but i found those 2 tracks.Thanks to Fipster Discography and all his working. ! http://homepage.mac.com/fipster/church/audio/side-projects/isidore-andalusian_dogs.mp3 http://homepage.mac.com/fipster/church/audio/side-projects/isidore-mitternight.mp3 p.s: right -click on each link and save it to your computer. Last Edited By: Oceanic Blues 07/17/2010 07:53. Edited 1 times.
slowuncle	Isidore---the sequel	#10	[-]
Transient Posts: 6 (04/22/2011 10:59) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Has anybody heard any promising rumblings vis-a-vis more Kilbey/Cain Kollaboration???
miloguidosmom		#11	[-]
Space Saviour Posts: 1575 (04/22/2011 13:05) Reply Quote More My Recent Posts	Remove this ad I think the second album is finished (or very close to it), slowuncle. Just a matter of releasing it now.... KIABGOA

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Isidore review roundup

Isidore review roundup