Gray Young

For a quick education in the inadequacy of rock-scribe labels, note, for instance, the vast sonic chasm between festival participants Tortoise and Raleigh trio Gray Young. Both are regularly tagged (or tarred) with the catch-all “post-rock,” but beyond  a propensity for instrumental numbers,  the two share little—hell, Gray Young’s shimmering 2009 debut, Firmament, included vocals on half the tracks. 

Still, the beat goes on. Firmament had folks conjuring up the usual suspects (Mogwai, Explosions in the Sky, et al.) to describe Gray Young’s melodic squall. And though the comparisons were closer, none of them really suited, either. For one, the record's 13 songs—with the 6-minute title track exception—delivered their build-and-release epics in short sprints rather than marathons, most running their course in tidy three- and four-minute packages. Gray Young’s variations were subtle, but transformative. Rather than piling one processed guitar wave atop another, “First Perennial Fall” takes a simple staccato piano figure for its foundation, and “Doorlight” uses swirling organ and synth to coat the song in a 4AD haze. “Precipice” put Dan Grinder’s bass front-and-center for its propulsion. Drummer Jeff Dopko’s metal background fueled his toms-and-cymbals explosions on tracks like “Provenance.” On “Tilling the Wind,” Chas McKeown's guitar shards owe more to U2’s The Edge than they do the Glaswegians or Texans. 

Then there are McKeown’s vocals, which serve to add texture as much as they deliver forlorn themes well-suited to these wistful mini-epics. The atmosphere they help create recalls ’90s swell-and-release bands like Ride or Slowdive, further watering down the post-rock comparisons. Of course, those bands labored under their own over-used genre moniker. So instead of wasting time trying to figure out where Gray Young fits in the catalog, we’re all better served simply enjoying the beautiful sounds they make. —John Schacht