Pitchfork

Tickley Feather's debut long-player opens with a small child's voice drawling, somewhat disconcertingly, "I've got magic inside my bones somewhere." Similar spoken snippets are scattered throughout the record, each centering around the words "bones" or "magic," or both. Clearly the repetition is intentional and well-considered, as you'd be hard-pressed to come up with two terms that better convey the essence of a skeletally lo-fi album that pulls its bliss from such improbable places.

The brainchild of Philadelphia resident Annie Sachs, Tickley Feather's scratchy bedroom probings slot nicely next to fellow Paw Tracks alum Ariel Pink, yet (as is the case with Pink), she's not nearly as musically dynamic or engaging as the kingpins of her loose coterie, Animal Collective. The song title "Keyboards Is Drunk" is a succinct summation of Sachs' approach (she's clearly quite fond of straightforward nomenclature-- see also titles like "Rain Bucket" and "Leaking Roof"), as she utilizes wobbly, simplistic key patterns and layers them with largely indecipherable singsong melodies or chirpy yells, occasionally a low-rent drum track, and other sonic detritus. This is the kind of record where hiss, feedback, and even the abstract concepts of cheapness and obfuscation are more or less instruments as well, coloring and shaping what we hear, burying certain motifs while embellishing others.

Given her deliberately limited palette, it makes sense that Sachs' tracks would start to sound a bit same-y, with their abbreviated running times admittedly a saving grace, as even three and a half minutes of "Night Train" interminably attests. Still, there are plenty of standouts here, haunting or earworm-ish moments like the "tra la la"s of "Le Daylight" or the relatively long, smudgy vocal lines that sprout into melodies on "The Python" and "Night Chant". As you'd expect, even minor departures from the blueprint stand out, with magnified thrills arising from the booming "Psycho Killer" bass of "Sorry Party" and the harsher electro edge of "Tonight Is the Nite" (both of which also find Sachs yelling more than usual). As a standalone artifact Tickley Feather has plenty of charm, yielding something furtive but friendly for those who penetrate its mountains of artlessness and hiss. However, the jury's still out on whether there's enough here to build a sustainable and rewarding aesthetic.