![]() ![]() ![]() T**hought Rock Fish Scale does away with any such concessions-as Chapman observes early on, "If you go around trying to please everybody/ It only becomes your crutch." Though clocking in at a mere 34 minutes, it’s the sort of album that takes its sweet time going where it wants to. While Whine introduced Chapman as one the most intriguingly idiosyncratic lyricists in Canadian indie rock this side of Dan Bejar, the album betrayed competing desires to engage its audience intellectually while cranking out rave-ups that could sate a Saturday-night bar crowd. Thought Rock Fish Scale arrives mere months after Paradise of Bachelors introduced Nap Eyes’ debut, Whine of the Mystic, to Stateside audiences, but they’re already a very different band. If your idea of a perfect night is sitting on your sofa, reading a listicle on your laptop with Netflix on in the background while carrying on a conversation on your smartphone as you reply to a text, then let this record be the first step in your rehabilitation from information overload. And its purity of vision amounts to a declaration of war against a culture that encourages mass distraction. Its pledges of sobriety and good health constitute affronts to peer-pressured intoxication and food-blogged indulgence. Its lethargy feels like an act of defiance against the hyper-speed pace of modern life. It finds confidence in humility, power in relaxation. ![]() Nap Eyes sound like the kind of slacker-rock band that plays while slumped over on half-folded futons, but even in its quietest moments, Thought Rock Fish Scale is an album brimming with passion and protest. ![]()
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