Those Lavender Whales – “Parts & Pieces/Goose & Geeses”

Holly says this albums depth “plays like an indie rock Shel Silverstein poem.”

Holly Etchison

out of 10

Those Lavender Whales
Parts & Pieces/Goose & Geeses
August 12, 2013
Fork and Spoon Records

Columbia, SC outfit Those Lavender Whales (Aaron Graves, Jessica Bornick, Chris Gardner, Patrick Wall, and friends) are back with their second EP, the happily named Parts & Pieces/Goose & Geeses, a tiny, homespun sound byte of goodness. Brevity might be the soul of wit but it also plays a nice hand in this free spirited five-song interlude.

The listener can pretty much be had at “Hello, How Are You?” with its boisterous banjo and call to “Get up! Get up! Let’s go to the great branches of the tree that lives next door.” The violin adds a nice layer at the end.

Wading a little deeper is the faster paced, Pavement-esque “Sometimes.” Punctuated by well placed woo-oos, the song changes tempo mid stream to match insightful ponderings: a recognition of boredom, dodging yourself, and coming to the end of your own answers and reality. With lines like “we’ve done these things for so long we’ve convinced ourselves that we’re not faking,” it becomes the most ‘meaty’(and longest!) track musically and lyrically.

“Thy Thou Thee” is a mini confessional; the tree imagery is back: “I was walking outside when a tree reached out and scratched me then I saw some of my insides coming out where they weren’t supposed to be.” A candid request for help from an outside source to change the inside, the song touches on deeper spiritual truths in a playful poetic way.

More branches and roots (and banjo) are found on “129,” more unearthing of self and recognizing messy truths with the hope of new life. And, at the last, “Fight Song” fulfills this theme with repetitive singsong sounds and blunt lines: “I believe in a book. I believe I’m no good. I was conceived in the dirt. I will return to the earth.”

The parts and pieces we find ourselves in, the wondering as we wander like silly geese with some innate sense of direction, is pondered almost under your nose on this project, whose depth plays like an indie rock Shel Silverstein poem. Arriving unawares, you will be glad for the fellowship here.

-Holly Etchison, September 3, 2013