I’m not one to pigeonhole bands by where they come from, after all not every band from Seattle is grungy, nor is every band from Nashville stuck on country.
But after a first listen of Ashes Grammar by A Sunny Day in Glasgow, I was rather sure I had the band pegged as European, maybe not Scottish (too obvious, but certainly from the UK). Those Banco de Gaia electronic interludes, the dreamy Cocteau Twins (easy reach, I know) lyrics, that overt Sigur Ros resonance — no doubt they were from across the pond.
So it makes perfect sense they’re from — Philadelphia. Philadelphia? Rocky Balboa, obnoxious sports fans, cheesesteaks?
Amazingly — yes.
From the City of Brotherly Love, directed by Ben Daniels and his sisters Robin and Lauren, comes an impossible dream of an album, laid out like a delicate meal. The 22-song disc moves with purpose, whetting your appetite with a gentle opening (“Slaughter Killing Courage and Failure”), a determined middle (“Close Chorus,” “Shy,” “Nitetime Rainbows”), and a satisfying ending (“Staring at a Disadvantage,” “Headphone Space”). In between are seamless pauses of sound, some full songs others instrumental experiments, which bend and fold like conversations between courses.
Despite its hour-long run time, Ashes never lingers nor overstays its welcome — when it ends it comes as a surprise, which is fitting. For a Philadelphia band to create such music is a revelation, evidence the unexpected comes from the oddest of places.
So give it up for ambient pop and cheesesteaks.
Only in America.
