by Kris Handel
Though Caution’s Nora Button and Cash Langdon are separated by many States and miles, they’ve produced their first full length album Arcola, packed to the gills with fuzzy distortion and pop chops that are close to unrivaled. On this record the duo touch on their influences of mid-late 80’s noise-pop/shoegaze with a ton of respect while managing to throw in dashes of modern dream-pop, blooms of keyboards, and haunting melodic vocals. These songs pack so much into their mostly three-minute (+) structures, with guitars that wiggle around keyboards, providing a good deal of crunch and heft when the moments call for it. Arcola is filled with hazy pop moments, taking twist and turns, with off the wall and crooked pop that’s hard to shake from memory. There’s a detached hazy aura that will have you floating along.
“Fuck It Up” features Button’s soft and distanced psychedelic swirl of echoing vocals floating over a repeating guitar line and persistent drumbeat. The detachment in the vocals play up the anxiety with notes of boredom/repetition in moments of isolation and a feeling of being stuck in an uncertain and potentially dangerous time or head space. “Hand That Looks Like Mine” has a tinge of surfy and reverb driven moments of bands like Jesus and Mary Chain as Button and Langdon’s tandem vocals add distinct character and melody. This is a bit of a head rush on the album as guitars race along a stuttering drum machine. Langdon’s vocals conjure up an attitudinal sneer which contrasts so well with Button’s chirpy melodicism.
“Calendar of Waiting Stress” harkens back to a little bit of a Frank Black/Kim Deal vocal feel with intermittent guitar fills and a bouncing bass line. They push and pull at each other before waves of keyboard enter, floating distortion alongside drenched guitar. Button and Langdon’s vocals connect in a manner of total slacker-esque enchantment, and this song is loaded in echoey beauty and messiness. “Start” begins with a lovely finger picked guitar before giving ways to crunching distortion and keyboard waves as Button intones and floats dreamily above the din. There is a bit of darkness enveloping everything and the double tracked vocals provide a haunting discrepancy between each other that carries a bit of menace.
Arcola arrives with an odd self-assuredness and contains a lot of different atmospheres and emotions in a jam-packed thirty or so minutes, truly blooming with repeat listens. Button and Langdon have collected a bunch of songs that have a sense of familiarity embedded in them, but there is a level of strange and unexpected creativity that pops up in every song. This record is packed with so many contrasts in atmosphere and subject matter that keeps the listener from ever achieving a solid foundation on what to expect. This plays as a massive strength as the unpredictability is thrilling and playful. Arcola balances the odd sensibilities with harmonies that manage to announce themselves loudly amidst wave after wave of crunchiness. It makes for quite an emotional impact, adding attachment to the wonderful and enchanting mess that is laid out before the audience.