Hard to believe Marc Bianchi, Her Space Holiday's main man, was once a purveyor of Californian hardcore. Such sun-drenched thrash is a world away from the sharp intelligence and exquisite layering of the music he makes now. Here, his soft voice is brilliantly backed by quietly mutating electronics and hip-hop beats, with mediaeval flavors, some tinkling piano, glockenspiel and sudden dramatic bursts adding further color. But the greatest interest lies in the lyrics - intriguing, charming, highly insightful and sometimes violently confessional, often on a par with the very best of Elliott Smith. It's melancholy but genuinely uplifting, both heavy and ethereal. Class. - Uncut |