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Diaper Island verges on the lo-fi direction of half-a-country away Woods, and countless other N.Y.C. units working with limited production values and a brainfull of big melodies. He finds himself harmonizing with his own voice, overdubbing his barely tuned guitar over Moe Tucker drums and occasional vintage electronics.
Van Gaalen slathers a big layer of echo throughout Diaper Island, which is turning into an overused strategy as of late with indie bands. Yet it works well throughout this record, giving Diaper Island a creepy and haunting vibe.
When he combines it with a nautical motif like ”Throw those bodies from the ship/Let’s feed them to the sea/’Cause no one can remember how/They got here anyway” (“Wandering Spirits”), it’s apparent that he’s spent a great deal of time making Diaper Island a consistently rewarding effort.
Now if he’d only do the same with his album title, maybe more listeners won’t be scared off by what could only be seen as a potentially juvenile release outside of the shrink-wrap.
Because Chad Van Gaalen has done more than just released a polished turd, he’s released a potentially career-defining album.
And who would want an album of that stature identified by some off-the-cuff handle that belies the ambition and hard work contained within it?
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