The Witch by Pumarosa

Some albums are born almost momentarily, hammered out over a snappy series of jams. Others are left to marinate and stew along with personal progressions; Pumerosa's debut has done the latter. Enveloping their emotional and impassioned breakthrough into the public consciousness is the fantastic debut - The Witch.

Vinyl Double LP £22.99 PUMA009

180g vinyl, gatefold 2LP on Fiction.

  • Includes download code
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CD £9.99 PUMA8

Mintpack CD on Fiction.

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The Witch by Pumarosa
1 review. Write a review for us »
7/10 Robin 24 May 2017

Working here makes us so fucking ignorant. We spend more time filing bands into their place on the shelf than we do actually listening to them, to such an end that I’ve probably seen the word Pumarosa more times than I’ve eaten fruit this year without having ever once checked them out. After a slew of 12”s and a big ol’ EP of songs, the band finally present their debut and demand I fucking hear it. And now I know: they are an indie rock band and they work hard.

Pumarosa’s focus seems to be on production rather than songs, in that every cut on ‘The Witch’ feels impressively carved out in its space, and draws you into its atmosphere rather than onto a hook. The racket-ready chords of “Honey” create a suffocating environment, offset by sparklier tones and a confronting vocal that make me feel stuck in a waiting room with the band. “Priestess” is a radio-styled indie number with a droning intro and leading bassline that sounds ready for a glitzy, twilit music video involving a late night drive through a nondescript city. Isabel Munoz-Newsome’s vocal echoes out onto slabs of emptiness before buzzsaw synths usher the song back onto some energy, the song eventually building into an krautrock-like density a la Fews that proves them masters of the journey, rather than the destination.

Aren’t they smart, for real: the sounds of “My Gruesome Loving Friend” are so brilliantly collated, the dinky video game melody melted by shoegazed guitars for a more clearly produced vocal to dip in and out of. The acoustic guitars opening “Barefoot” give way to a hard fucking beat and I don’t know where to go. It’s these kinda moments that make me really wanna actually listen to Pumarosa: their details, ever involving, pull me in and out of directions like a travel brochure with too many places I wanna go.


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