It came as no surprise to me when I learned, reading the press sheet that accompanied the unanticipated arrival of their debut record, that the only shows Blind Man’s Colour have ever played have been on beaches; and while I can’t say that beachy was the first descriptor that came to mind as I put the CD into my car a few days ago (on my way, oddly enough, out East to the shore), washy certainly was — that is, washy in the sense of what one might call a sort of ethereal wash: porous, fluid, incorporeal and effervescent.  Tough as it to evoke the sound of a new band through a random assortment of adjectives (and evocations of non-descript locales), it is tougher yet to evoke their sound — or any sound, really — without recourse to other, already established bands, and their already established sound.

Blind Man’s Colour’s debut record (obviously they did not think out how awkward that might sound in the press) Season Dreaming sounds an awful lot like what — and try to imagine this with me — Animal Collective in 2009 would sound like if they went back and had their record produced by Animal Collective of 2001.  But as sound as this comparison is (just listen to the record; you’ll see it, I promise) and any other comparison one might make (to, among others: Rusty Santos, High Places, Here We Go Magic, Atlas Sound, even early Spiritualized and recent Jason Pierce in places), it is also quite unfair; what makes Season Dreaming so enjoyable is the sort of earnest naivete that makes the record completely its own, offering the listener a sound that, even in its relation to what may otherwise seem ‘obvious’ influences, seems absent from any sort of relational topography.  More than anything, Blind Man’s Colour sounds like a band that, not long after overhearing descriptions of various bands they have never even heard, set out to record music that sounded like what they had heard.

I mean this in the best way possible: Season Dreaming is a pleasure to listen to, and, although perhaps this had more to do with my proximity to the shore, lives up to its name in every way, much in the way that the band’s name evokes, nearly exactly, the sort of sound that it offers.  This, of course, brings me back to that washiness of it all: Season Dreaming is not a record about melodies or structure, but is also, crucially, not antithetical to these concepts; instead, the record seems to be about what is not heard, and what is never present, those sounds that you, the listener, find yourself placing in the spaces between what is heard: hints of something without that ‘something’ ever coming to presence.  The sounds are there but they are there without any sort of ground; each song congeals in such a way that one would be hard-pressed to trace the origin of the various sounds, or even quantify them; or, further yet, imagine what the songs might have sounded like when first written (and on what instrument?).

And so: a wash; and it is precisely this that makes Season Dreaming so enjoyable.  Whereas so many in contemporary music try, self-consciously, to transpose themselves into their music — to capture their singularly ‘human’ experiences — Blind Man’s Colour doesn’t even evoke a sense of humanity (not unlike the odd sensation one might get from a Joe Meek production: that behind those overwhelmingly-compressed instruments there is no discernibly affixed body).  That is, there is no sense that there is a ‘band’ playing, or even a musician sitting holed up in a bedroom, and perhaps that is why they have chosen to only perform on beaches, where there is no real sense of center upon which the band may rest — and no single source of sound about which a listener may orient himself.  (How they will fare when they come to NY for a week of shows, their first ever outside of a Florida beach, and confine themselves to an indoor stage, will certainly be interesting to see.)

Season Dreaming is released on August 18 on Kanine Records.  The dates/venues in NY are not yet set, so check their Myspace for updates in the coming weeks.