SPILL ALBUM REVIEW: STILL CORNERS – DREAM TALK

STILL CORNERS
DREAM TALK
WRECKING LIGHT RECORDS

A dusty old cowboy in a dusty old saloon finishes the dregs of his now warm beer and rises up off of the bar stool. He steps out into the day, hot as hell, the intense sun casting a glare of white over the dessert sand. The deep crow’s feet neighbouring his eye are prominent as he squints, scanning the horizon, jowls hanging like the ears of a beagle, and he wonders to himself if today is the day that he’ll finally leave this two-horse town for something bigger. He coughs, spits, and shuffles off to collect his horse. “Ehhh prolly not!” he mutters under his breath.

These are the kinds of visualizations I get when listening to Dream Talk, the latest and sixth outing from American/British duo Still Corners. Guitarist Greg Hughes and vocalist Tessa Murray have such a way of creating a vibe that stirs the soul in such a dreamy way, almost fever dream-like, comparable to scanning the hot desert landscape, catching flashes of things that may just be a mirage. And it’s no shock that “dream” is the operative here as the majority of these songs were born from dreams that Tessa Murray had recorded in a journal.

From the neon rush of “The Dream” to the almost unpolished demo track vibe of “Lose More Slowly”, the guitar work is absolutely sublime as always and Tessa’s warm butterscotch voice is gorgeously haunting.

A power suited-up young man in a vast city stares out the window of his high-rise power suite. He finishes off the last dregs of his expensive scotch, rain spattering the windowpane. He opens up the window, letting the rain hit his face as he stares out across the shockingly bright lights of the city, the glare almost casting a white blanket over the landscape if you squint hard enough. His eyes hold a sadness and his cheeks tight from years of remaining overly stoic, the face of a man who has forgotten how to dream. He wonders if someday he’ll leave this city of millions and retire to the country where he’ll buy a horse and frequent the town saloon that serves cheap beer, and nobody asks questions. “Ehhh you’re dreaming!” he mutters to himself as he picks up his phone and summons his driver.

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