The Warmth – “Hot Milk” (2017) review
The Warmth – Hot Milk (2017)
More years ago than I care to remember, I had the privilege of interviewing the late Frank Zappa, who said to me, “You could take any of our songs, insert them into any of our albums and they would work perfectly.” While that may initially suggest that there is no progression, I assure you it doesn’t.
The same can be said for The Warmth, where their music rides on the same currents, yet each release brings something enticingly new and forward looking to the table. With the music found here on Hot Milk being delivered as both classic rock and swirlingly experimental, all of the songs have been developed around a cohesive structure laced with odd bits and pieces woven together with a dynamic rhythm, synthesizers, guitars, and an exchange of ideas built from the bottom up … meaning that the band lay down a solid foundation of bass, drums and rhythm, and then build slowly on top of that until the songs come into focus, drenched in reverb, along with enchanting vocal harmonies that maintain a minimalist effect, yet in the same breath, blossom with the complexities of a tropical moon flower opening in the night, ever dependent on warmth humidity and the rich soil.
Not one of these numbers sound as if they were labored over, more that each rose fully developed out of the ether with a joyous romance, yet with an understated strength that nearly sneaks up on you, like someone in soft crepe soled shoes, where the music seemed to be in once place, and then moves into another without seeming to have taken a step. If anything, The Warmth don’t cross bridges, they tend to slip into the water, ride the deep undercurrents, awash not in aerial displays, but in a sensual dampness of things half remembered, just out of reach, and dearly longed for.
There’s a collective passion to Hot Milk, one where each song moves into the next, nearly breathing at a sustained heartbeat level, moving across your skin like a gentle breeze, causing a comfortable smile of satisfaction to ebb from your lips in deep appreciation for a dream that too rarely visits our nocturnal slumber.
– Jenell Kesler
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