Review Summary: Motorama: for loud and quiet listening
Motorama is a band that I’ve already written about, although very briefly. In a way, that’s quite fitting for this group. This indie post-punk outfit seems to be much more interested in perfecting a specific relaxed, “dark romantic” vibe to their music than pushing themselves into vastly different terrains. That isn’t a slight on them, to be clear. Despite a few ups-and-downs and lineup changes across their almost 20 years together, Motorama has remained a remarkably consistent band. There’s almost a comfort in knowing that if you ever need your fix of jangly melodies and monotone spoke-sung vocals, you can always put on one of their records to scratch that (admittedly very niche) itch.
I hope you don’t act too surprised when I tell you that I am one of those people with that specific itch to scratch. And when I saw Motorama had a new album out in
Sleep, and I Will Sing, I knew that I was going to get my fill of great tunes to goth dance to until the sun comes up. There’s an underappreciated art to crafting great hooks while being constrained to a mellower tempo, but this band makes it look effortless. The bass on tracks like “Twilight Song” and “Unknown” is practically hypnotic, acting as the perfect scaffolding to support any song it’s backing. The guitar-playing is no slouch either though; perfectly trebly, almost-folksy playing that recalls classic jangle pop bands of yesteryear while still sounding modern behind the band’s typical new wave synth stylings. “Next to Me,” one of the album’s highlights in my eyes, is soothing like a lullaby, while still managing to be so chilling and poetic. Motorama has never really wowed me with their lyrics, but something about lead singer Vladislav Parshin’s voice playing duet with that lovely pan-flute just brings the song to a whole other level.
The whole album is entrenched in imagery of dreams and sleep and fears and nightmares. But also of changing seasons. Those themes come to a head on closer “Dreams,” a simple, repetitive recounting of the different kinds of experiences our lead has had while asleep. While it isn’t a particularly strong track on it’s own, in context with the album, “Dreams” is a perfect way to close out the record. A spiraling anxiety, followed by a realization: it's time to wake up. For as gloomy as the album can be at times, it always holds onto the hope that everything will be alright in the end, that there will always be a sunny day to look forward to. I hope so too.