Firs Of Prey basks in the glow of a West Coast sunray—odd, given the dichotomy of sunshine-y folk-pop harmonies being augmented by a falsetto that Nick Drake might gush over. Firs of Prey’s minimalist approach takes on the form of a Beach Boys arpeggio and flattening it with the drone of a grumpy organ or a gramophone, a compliment that, as vinyl buffs can attest, means something warm and raw and great.
|