One man bands aren't what they used to be. Futuropaco is Justin Pinkerton, previously of Thrill Jockey psych-rockers Golden Void, and it's only him you'll hear on this debut. Pinkerton is also a composer of library and commercial music, so you can think of Futuropaco as him bringing his two sides together.
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Futuropaco have done it. They’ve made an album Ian has described as “good”. A record deal with El Paraiso (their manager: “got you a contract with the biggest prog label in the world so what were you worried about?”) and praise from a record store clerk. It’s all lining up for them. Justin Pinkerton’s new band away from the psych of Golden Void is destined for great, goofy, groovy things.
Combining the rhythmic habits he’s picked up by playing psych rock with the styles found in his day job as a commercial composer, Pinkerton presents a new sound that lies somewhere between saccharine muzak and freakout krautrock, a sugar-rush that uses old wahing and jamming tricks towards joy. It sounds euphoric: the record’s centerpiece, “Fuoco Palude”, combines a whirring synth melody with gulping riffs reminiscent of Oh Sees and a few hints of hard rock. This wonderfully calamitous combination continues on “Peste Rossa”, in which twinking melodies imitate a sorta futurebound glockenspiel as the guitars go stoned and slow.
It’s explorer season for Pinkerton; Futuropaco sounds like the result of all the ideas mingling in his brain, each interacting by accident as a way of processing his busy day. “Re Di Menzogne” is off the wall: its mix of saxophone, wahing guitars and propelling percussion makes for some kind of cinematic psych odyssey. Such is the craft of a professional psychlord.
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