The Radar Bros. are a California trio (not siblings), seemingly dedicated to the notion of Neil Young's After the Gold Rush and the Beatles' Let It Be being the two greatest rock albums ever. Jim Putnam's voice has that same forlorn, vulnerable, slightly quavering quality as the Godfather of Grunge/Messiah of Mope's, and the Bros.' songs all have the same languid, benignly melancholic ambiance as those of the Fab Four in their "Across the Universe"/"She's Leaving Home" mode.
The Radar Bros.' close harmonies are velvety and gauzy, and their melodies are swathed in a densely (but judiciously) textured, shimmering ensemble sound of gently distorted guitars, lush keyboards, and understated drumming. The only real flaw in their game plan: no uptempo tunes at all, nada. With their unhurried cadences, Pages' songs tend to blur together in one sitting. But in small doses, or on a really rainy day when you just can't bring yourself to go outdoors, The Fallen Leaf Pages is as comforting as a cup of hot cocoa and a fleece blanket.
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