The Fat Angel Sings

Posse’s “Kismet” as the inaugural release in their Document series! ,
Taking inspiration from the original concept behind the founding of the label’s attempt to document our home city of Omaha through music and art, each release featured in the Document series will comprise of an exclusive 7-inch record featuring unreleased music from various artists outside of the label’s roster and a specially curated zine highlighting the artist’s hometown / music scene.  This Seattle indie rock band had a poet laureate, Posse would since 2010, across two previous albums, the trio chronicled the banality and disappointments of life in their Northwest city with wit and sadness and hilarity. The sound they crafted to accompany their stories  were beautifully spartan; just two guitars and a drum chugging along in a haze. Check out the bands EP “Horse Blanket” it is the band’s final record having decided to call it time up. I really hope we hear somethinhg soon from its members.

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Sad news from the city of Seattle the band Posse decided to add to the ash pile and call it quits.  The trio gifted to the world their final album Horse Blanket

If Seattle indie rock had a poet laureates, Posse would surely lay claim to the title. Since 2010, across two previous albums, the trio chronicled the banality and disappointments of life in their Northwest city with wit and sadness and hilarity. The sound they crafted to accompany their stories of bad dates at terrible Seattle rap shows (“A bald white guy/With a mumu onstage” one lyric went) and workplace frustration was beautifully spartan; just two guitars and a drum chugging along in a haze. Horse Blanket is the band’s final record, an EP of six songs about the things they know best: “boredom and loss, miscommunication and regret.”

On opener “Dream Sequence” vocalist Sacha Maxim gently shoves a listener into Posse’s disaffected, overcast world: “I was sick/I was tired/I was standing in the rain” she sings with a frown. The lyric is without frills or metaphor. Instead, Posse find poetry in blunt and dead-simple observations. This reflects in their arrangements, which are without ornamentation or glitz, just Maxim and Paul Wittmann-Todd’s depressive guitar strums accompanied by Jon Salzman’s quiet drumming.

While their sound could almost be described as rudimentary, it’s never boring. The deliberate nature of their music, the almost shuffling sleepwalking stupor of their voices and each instrument trudging forward, create a sense of pace and place that is so real it can be hallucinatory. Like on “Shiver” when Wittmann-Todd slurs, “I feel cold/Or maybe something like that,” the frigid trickle of guitar notes perfectly mimics the loneliness of his line. Something the band does so amazingly well, They recreate an entire universe of subtle, painful interactions, “funny little rituals,” and personal landmarks. Wittmann-Todd takes you through a detailed tour of a break-up that travels between cold beaches and the interiors of shitty Volvos. The pain is self-lacerating: “I told myself I’d differ, but I never really change,” he sings.

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