If you were to make a list of artists to compose so-called “jock jams”—those ubiquitous anthems that spice up the promos and highlight reels for your favorite athletic spectacles—I sincerely doubt that The Declining Winter would be on there, not even in the bottom position. Their mopey, pastoral music isn’t exactly the sort that conjures up feelings of athletic victory and virtuosity. On the other hand, if you’re looking for music to listen to whilst crying into your pint after your team has been trounced in the finals, then they make better sense.

Which is to say that the thought of Richard Adams and Co. composing a theme for the world’s biggest sporting event strikes one as a wee bit absurd. But therein lies the charm. Musically and lyrically, “Official World Cup Theme 2010” doesn’t deviate at all from the aesthetic that the band has employed throughout its career. It may be more chipper and upbeat, but only by a smidge. The lyrics still display a penchant for nostalgic musings even as they celebrate the summer’s warmth, and the music, with its blend of acoustic and electric instrumentation, is quite enchanting. And the sample that closes out the song, of what I assume is some famous soccer match of yore—sorry fellows, I barely know anything about American football, much less the real deal—is apropos.

The disc ends with an instrumental version of the theme, and sandwiched between is “Red Kite”, a slightly more downbeat number where stabs of violin jut out from lazily plucked guitars and scattered drumming. It’s the sort of lethargically haunting music that the Declining Winter do so very well, music that may seem boring and uneventful on paper, but that nevertheless draws the listener in with its sublime details and evocative mood.

Echodrone has certainly come some distance since their 2007 self-titled EP. While “shoegazer” is probably still the best genre in which to place them, their debut full-length The Sun Rose in a Different Place reveals that that’s not the most accurate classification to make. True, the layers of shimmering guitars and sighing vocals are still there, but the band is clearly in the process of honing and refining such elements—which is both exciting and somewhat frustrating.

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Longtime readers of Opus will know that when it comes to female vocalists, I prefer mine to be otherworldly and ethereal (e.g., Lisa Gerrard, Elizabeth Fraser, Rachel Goswell, Mimi Parker). Now, the ladies in Kissing Cousins can evoke an otherworldly air with their songs—particularly when they slip into an old time-y spiritual mood—but most of the time, they’re raw, rough around the edges… and quite exhilarating.

Kissing Cousins don’t pull any punches: right from the get go, with its stomping rhythms and writhing, tortured fuzz guitar, “Close To The Fire” grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Meanwhile, Heather B. Heywood’s echoing vocals manage to be both sexy and eerie, like P.J. Harvey if she were a roller derby girl—or The Shirelles if they were into switchblades and drag racing.

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Although Hood might be on a hiatus that shows no signs of ending soon, the band’s members have been keeping busy. Gareth S. Brown has released two albums on Misplaced Music. Christopher Adams released We Know About The Need under the Bracken monicker in 2007 and has since contributed to various compilations, remix projects, and soundtracks. And Chris’ brother Richard has just released Haunt The Upper Hallways, the latest release from his lo-fi/experimental/post-rock outfit The Declining Winter.

I realize there are a lot of slashes in the above description, but that’s because Richard’s sound is rather mercurial. His brother Chris may focus on the more electronic/hip-hop aspects of Hood’s sound via Bracken but Richard is basically exploring everything else.

Think of the long, pastoral moments from The Cycle of Days and Seasons and Rustic Houses, Forlorn Valleys injected with post-classical fragments from Rachels and Steve Reich as well as some small amounts of dub and folk—and then all of it filtered through the sort of autumnal, melancholy, overcast haze that Hood and the rest of their Nostalgist ilk are so inclined towards and you’re getting close.

I don’t mean that listening to Haunt The Upper Hallways does nothing more than conjure up the desire to hear a new honest to God Hood album. Well okay… maybe it does at first.

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