A Fading Summer EP by The Clientele (Review)

It seems appropriate that I’m reviewing this album in August. School has started again, the trees are about to change color (if they haven’t already), and everyone will start pulling out their jackets and worn sweaters. Meanwhile, I’ll have The Clientele whenever I want to reflect on summer days long gone. The biggest draw on this EP is the production, which slathers every song with a hazy, dreamy quality. The songs are far-off and starry-eyed, the guitars shimmering and chiming away like church bells in the distance. Meanwhile, the vocals, which are breathy enough to make Nick Drake’s ghost green with envy, croon away like some forgotten British pop star.

My favorite track on here is “Bicycles,” which features one of the most beautiful choruses I’ve heard in a long time. The guitars weave in and out of eachother as the light tip-tap of the snare barely anchors the song from floating away. For a brief second, the bridge takes an eerier turn, before the sweet vocals take it back into brighter territory.

Although the EP only has 4 songs, that’s probably a good thing since there’s very little variation between the songs. But still, at just 13 1/2 minutes, it’s short and sweet. It’s all about the end of summer, of riding around London circa 1965 on your bicycle decked out in a cardigan and turtleneck. The days are getting a little colder, the skies a little more cloudy. It’s about golden pop songs that cause summertime memories to drift around inside your head like fluffy clouds. It’s that and nothing more, and if that’s all you want — ultra-jangly pop songs that sound as fragile as glass sculptures and are just as pretty — then it’s absolutely perfect.