The hotel bar emptied itself years ago, and you’ve been left to haunt the place ever since. Cobwebs adorn the rafters, and the wood paneling creaks with a banshee’s tone. You can still hear the reverberation from the last song performed here, and the smell of a dancer’s sweat clings to the air. It’s dark, but the house lights steadily grow brighter. A ghostly trio drift onto the stage from behind a curtain. Their ethereal sounds take hold of your mind . . .
Bittersweetness is invoked when a marvelous band releases an album after making the decision to break up, but I’m so glad that this group left us a gem to remember them by. Our Toast is the third and final full-length from The Sandwitches, three singers from San Francisco with seraphic voices. This trio specialize in embodying the universal, melancholic feelings of loss and heartbreak, but with breathtaking grace and poise.
Patience is something that these ladies have mastered on this gorgeous record. These breezy songs travel at a leisurely pace, with loose drumming and pristinely delicate guitar. Some tracks will have you questioning whether they’re entirely improvised or not, and that distinct element of airiness is what makes these languorous pieces of music such a delight to experience. They’re intense without being heavy or imposing.
If you can picture yourself drifting to sleep on a porch during a warm day, or unwinding in a desolate bar while absorbing the musical agony of an unknown talent, you will find something about this record to adore. This band has gifted to us the ideal soundtrack for heartache that also reminds us that moments are fleeting, and nothing is permanent. If you’re seeking patient, ethereal laments, this album is for you.
– stasi (@stasisphere)