The Forms

The Forms

by Andrew Blackie

23 January 2008

 

It’s been over four years since The Forms poked their heads out of Brooklyn with their debut Icarus, and that time has been spent constructing a sophomore album that is in every way its superior. The simplicity and adeptness with which this band can spin an emotional web never falls short of captivating; the beautiful melodic contours woven through each of these tracks, a mix of sublime piano and guitar, go hand in hand with the delightfully unpretentious lyrics that prop and complement them. The Forms clocks in at a very sinewy but perfectly measured twenty-eight minutes, leaving behind the clever dissonance of Icarus for triumphant mantras that work even more convincingly in their favour, topped off by the legendary Steve Albini, who once again puts his name to the proceedings, deservedly catapulting the band above where they would otherwise stand in the indie circuit. Each song shimmers ambiguously, clamors evocatively, but is shrouded with wisdom at the same time. The Forms have found their watershed. They could make music like this for the rest of their career and not wear out their welcome. Encapsulated in this record is the sweet joy of life and of making music.  Listening to this self-titled, it quickly becomes apparent that, for all its quiet, unassuming reclusion, those behind it have something very important to say about the state of indie rock.

The Forms

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