The Underground of Happiness

Another instalment of delightful, pastoral folk music with a brilliant light and breezy touch from the band built around the very prolific Katie English and Keiron Phelan . Brona McVittie has joined on harp and vocals for their third album to add to the already intoxicating mix of guitars, flutes and clarinets. The irresistible ‘Some may transition’ is a perfect example, being the aural equivalent of a picture perfect summer meadow, a gorgeous dreamy atmosphere with just a hint of the exotic (could be those cascading harp glissandos) reminiscient of Eden Ahbez, maybe if he’d been English instead of American. The press release uses a phrase, “kitsch utopianism”, which I like because it suggests they are interrogating the very idea of happiness as opposed to simply trying to evoke it. To this end, you’ll find a sumptuous minimalism-meets-romanticism guitar flute and harp three hander in ‘The last summer of the century’. ‘The singing sands’ is for all the world like a...

Bright and breezy pop concoctions which we can call quirky and they rescue that word from oblivion by returning to the root, with a playful wide-eyed sense of adventure and a couldn’t give a fuck quality which is endearing all on its own. Then add the sheer weight of hooks and ideas, musical and lyrical. Here’s some background. The second album from UK/Japanese group Smile Down Upon Us is released by wiaiwya on deluxe vinyl, in a delightful gatefold sleeve designed by artist Yuji Maruyama, on Record Store Day, April 18 (a CD version is released in Japan soon after). It’s a delicate, intimate, playful record that’s equal parts Cibo Matte pop, Vernon Elliott soundtrack and animated Marc Chagall painting, its music a perfect navigation between childlike wonderment, impish eccentricity and sophisticated intricacy. Smile Down Upon Us is the duo of London-based multi-instrumentalist Keiron Phelan (littlebow, Phelan-Sheppard, Silver Servants, etc.) and Tokyo-resident singer/elec...