You’re either crazy or dead, you just weren’t well bred.

Curious circumstances tend to breed curious albums, and generally the results are charming, unique, and can give an added layer of distinction to an already great album. Take, for instance, Ariel Pink beat boxing the drums on The Doldrums, or With Throats As Fine As Needles holing up in an abandoned bunker to record their self-titled album. Not that these quirks can save a bad album, but it’s always an added pseudo-sentimental bonus in an age of Pro Tools and recording budgets that could drag a third world country out of debt.

What is so remarkable about Our Brother The Native is their youth: releasing their 2006 debut on FatCat Records at the ages of 16 and 18 is incredibly impressive, and makes this now-trio either almost or barely 20, barring any sort of time machine-related accidents. What is equally remarkable is the rate of maturity and refinement of their sound, which results in Sacred Psalms being an early contender for one of the albums of the year.



Immediately clear from the opening “Well Bred” is the impeccable production: there is no studio-based “fullness”, but rather an entirely organic feeling lushness about the whole record; in fact, “lush” (in the “pleasantly full-bodied” sense of the word, not the colloquial bastardization) is probably the best adjective to encapsulate the feel of the album. Perpetually layered (and yet somewhat subdued) vocals and organ drones form the basis for stuttering acoustic percussion and all matter of idiophones and stringed instruments including guitar, banjo, mandolin and probably more and probably some I identified incorrectly and probably instruments I’ve never heard of. All ten tracks are positively flourishing with this feel, this cherry-blossoms-and-sunset sort of colourful je ne sais quoi, this mood which I’m going to stop wasting adjectives on because it’s meant to be experienced and not talked about.

Also set forth in the opener are the clumsy, though frequently lovely and often clever, lyrics. And “clumsy” is not meant here as an insult, but in the sense that they weren’t penned for metre or rhyme, but to fit with the song (or vice versa?). Though as odd as the chorus of “Ph. D, BA, I am your doctor, so listen to what I say” may seem, Our Brother The Native make it as restrainedly catchy as their timid vocals will allow. The rest of the hooks in the album are omnipresent, no doubt, but require some work on part of the listener; Sacred Psalms is a textbook “grower”, with each additional listen revealing some eccentric chorus buried so deep it takes five listens to uncover.



If there is any critique to be brought against the album it’s that this all-pervading feeling is truly all-pervading, with most every song having the same super-layered, faux-catchy vibe. Tracks that break this mould are unsurprisingly the standouts: the sample-focused, reverb-drenched “Dusk” brings to mind a lost Set Fire To Flames track, while “Sores” brings its chorus to the forefront and serves as one of the more immediately memorable numbers.

That being said, the quality of the album is such that any feelings of repetition are quickly pushed aside by feelings of “well hot damn, this is a fantastic record!”. At this rate, I’m impossibly excited to hear what Our Brother The Native will be doing five years from now, and quite honestly, a little scared about how brilliant another morsel of maturity could make their next album. Until then, we have Sacred Psalms, and we have one of the year’s best.

Our Brother the Native - Well Bred
Our Brother the Native - Someday
Our Brother the Native - Sores

As always, buy what you like. Pick it up here if you're in North America, or click here if you're across the pond.