Some music feels expertly crafted. If you know what you're listening for, you'll be able to hear all the signs of a song, or an album, having gone through a laborious process of editing and executing a well-planned studio production. Then, there's another class of music that feels less like it's been through a process. It feels natural and imperfect.
There's no "right" way to make music, and both lanes have their place in any genre.
Blanket is like an autumn leaf - slowly drifting around in a falling motion toward the latter category. There's no part of this record that eludes to there having been any stressful moments in a recording studio. "Scarecrow Blue Bow" ends as if someone accidentally stopped recording before the band was finished with the song. But the charm that oozes from each track's effortless grace completely overshadows any small imperfections in the performances or the production.
Sonically, Shep Treasure uses Blanket to explore muffled, blown-out territories at times, while keeping the overall sound of the record crisp and clear. It doesn't exactly sound like it was recorded to the outdated analog gear that typically characterizes most bedroom pop, but it's hard to imagine these songs not having materialized in a bedroom setting - maybe even with some of that gear making a cameo on a bit of the instrumentation from time to time.
While the vibe of Blanket, as a whole, is at once both enchanting, and as comforting as...well...a blanket...it's a slightly more complicated affair to attempt to point specifically to where they fall, stylistically. The album opens with six minutes of slowcore perfection, before a crescendo into a magical little slice of near-psychedelic fuzz pop. This bouncing back and forth continues throughout, often borrowing little bits from shoegaze, dreampop, indie folk, and even grandiose 70s arena rock balladry. Whatever ground they cover feels organic and wholly cohesive, though. Honestly, the album feels like a cinematic story because of it - with every listen evoking scenes from a beautiful film that doesn't actually exist.
I could go on and on with complimentary adjectives and glowing praise here. Instead, I'll leave it at this: Blanket is Shep Treasure's second album in what I can only hope is a long and fruitful string of dozens more.
