Truth be told, if bands like Landing (and labels like El Paraiso) didn’t send me their records, I’d probably be focusing on Features editing for the ol’ T-to-the-M-T, exclusively. But hey, I can’t fight the forces of nature. If these folks want to take the trouble to endow me, by mail, with their physical artifacts, I will reciprocate by reviewing the bloody-damn HELL out of the material they send me almost every time (for those who have been snubbed, I truly am sorry, but that IS life and I try not to see it as a ‘snub’ anyway, for my own sanity). Landing, who hovered just out of my purview for their first decade or so of existence, have become one of my stalwarts, and I couldn’t be more excited to digest their latest, Third Sight, even if it means, according to the ‘promo blitz,’ returning to the roots of this cult Connecticut band that I barely had the chance to scrape the surface of back in the day. Apparently, they were all over the map. After a bass-heavy beginning, replete with bulbous beat, Landing indulge in a pleasing lull that leaves apt space for the guitars to flutter and flit here and there. Then we get a drone of sorts, albeit a drone with more rhythmic elements than usual and enough interlocking sounds to keep the senses giddy and humming with activity. I NEVER say this, and I feel like a D, but… this is music for headphonez. Yep, every reviewer’s used that phrase in one form or another, and here I am cranking out another clone. That’s the deal though. I first took a gander at Third Sight in my record room, with four equidistant speakers and my somewhat-fancy (OK fancy for ME) turntable, and I still felt like I was missing out on a few major themes. That said, don’t be afraid to also BLAST-AST-AST this fucker once you’ve taken in its subtleties, as it works on a bone-crushing, ear-filling level also. I hate to recycle another cliche and mention Kranky; then again, Landing have certainly been painted with that brush before, and it fits them. Particularly when “Morning Sun” sets over Third Sight like a fiery star; that’s the vibe that emanates, despite the fascinating use of rhythm, which seems to switch on and off like a bedroom light and keep the listener guessing. Again: headphones. You’ll need ‘em. The layers cooperate almost too well with each other, necessitating a close, intimate environment and an understanding of minimal prog and its tendency to dazzle over the long-term rather than the short-, much like Bitchin Bajas when the rubber hits the road, but Landing have been around even longer. Let the green vinyl flip your lid first, then move on to the sounds and let them pour into you like a calming codeine syrup, thickening once they’re in yr skull like gummy candy. Tasty, yes, and that’s only the half of it. A cosmic experience is at hand; bathe in it.
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