Chintzy as it might be to bookend an hour-long debut with lengthy environmental sequences, the cosmic slop sandwiched between the train depot and poppy field on Entrance High Rise does represent a form of reprieve from the Real World. The Aslett brothers are escapists of the most laid-back variety, patching together a number of sketchy noodlings that make the Grateful Dead sound anxious and ill at ease. But this isn't neo-H.O.R.D.E. jamming accompanied by several hand-percussionists and tie-dyed dancers. There aren't any instrumental heroics or drummer showcases, either. While it might not be conducive to hacky-sack marathons, it does provide a way to zone out and relax, man. The reverbed vocals recall the Stone Roses' Ian Brown, if only recorded immediately after a lengthy slumber. A couple of guitars alternate between gently strummed acoustics and tinny electrics, with Spartan drums frequently disappearing from the mix. The treatments on the guitars and some of the playing shows some clear indebtedness to Pink Floyd's David Gilmour -- pay special attention to the "One of These Days"-like break into aggression during the latter half of the opening "High Rise," along with some Ummagumma-isms on the more quiet fare. The singer approaches attentiveness every ten minutes or so. An occasional multi-part harmony pokes its head out. Songs don't begin and end so much as they tend to leak from one into the next. They're at their best when they're hardly trying, because the occasional lapses into Stone Roses/A Northern Soul-era Verve boogie makes everything else sound so much better; this isn't a "proper" rock band and they're not built for the big festival/stadium circuit. Sly production tricks and barely perceptable electronic dashes add further dimension, hammering home the notion that they could turn hardcore punk covers into mood music.
AllMusic Review by Andy Kellman