Review by Steve MarckWinter in Canada is always difficult to deal with. Anyone that tells you otherwise is a liar. It’s unpredictable, dark and dismal- most importantly, its really, really cold. Braids offered solace through the more difficult cold spells with their release of Native Speaker at the start of this year. From the thawing beginning of Lemonade, those frostbitten moments ride a slow wave of sparse, building percussion and a looping veil of guitars and vocal undulations that are pure and simple. It’s hard not to warm up to the band throughout as the effects prickle and press through the icy caverns molded around Plath Heart and cutting through Glass Deers. Braids are not afraid to let their hair down and stay awhile, and there’s a surprising amount of catchiness offered despite the sprawling fields of sound they sow. The synthetic breathing pattern of the album’s title track may serve as a wordless mantra, or you may find yourself humming the peculiarly melodic sparkly keyboards in Little Hand. Lyrically, Braids offer up both frigid reality and warm indulgence in sex, love, fantasy and family splayed in such a way that they could either be coy or callous depending on the weather. Native Speaker weaves its way through your attention with the intent to melt your idea of where and when a cold spell might be worth casting.
