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The Barr Brothers are drawing from that late 90’s/early 00’s indie moment when bands made music that felt both intimate and epic.
Here’s the thing about The Barr Brothers: they’ve never been your average alt-country band.
But on Let It Hiss, they’ve stopped caring about labels entirely. Instead, they’ve created an album that embraces its influences and shouts them out loudly.
And this time they’re pulling from a record collection that’s distinctly not country, but has been by their side for decades. It’s like a deep dive into their formative years.
And somehow, in doing exactly that, they’ve never sounded more like themselves. Weird, right?
Take It From Me opens things with a kind of lofi-lush sprawl that feels both ramshackle and oddly sophisticated.
There’s something amateurish and fun about its take on 60’s/70’s orchestral pop (think Petula Clark or Ornella Vanoni) but it works precisely because it’s not trying to nail perfection.
It just grows and grows, getting better and bigger the more you surrender to it like someone finally put words to Bob Dylan’s Wigman and didn’t overthink it.
Then Let It Hiss arrives like they’ve resurrected John Bonham and given some boxes to play with.
It’s all heavy and weird and kind of wonderful. Jarring against this are staccato and jagged vocals, yet somehow their rigid spikiness only adds to the loose soundscape behind them.
And you get all this before the chorus brings in a dreamy, otherworldly twang that could be an offcut from Iggy Pop’s China Girl demos. The sound is deep and rootsy but also alien at the same time. It’s a heady, joyous mix.
There’s also a Springsteen red-thread running throughout the album, but to keep it from becoming tired or obvious they pull from different sides of The Boss.
Run Right Into It channels the big anthem, fist-pumping drive of Born To Run or Dancing In The Dark, only smoothed at the edges to make it dreamier.
Another Tangerine goes for Bruce’s darker, more haunting material, complete with mournful, drawling harmonicas straight from the Nebraska album.
It’s so close that in anyone else’s hands it would probably feel forced, but somehow it doesn’t.
What’s particularly fascinating is how Let It Hiss also pulls from different eras to create similar moods.
Another Tangerine and Moonbeam both have similar haunting, acoustic drifts but arrive there from entirely different places.
Moonbeam channels peak Mercury Rev, making melancholy feel cinematic while playing nicely with The Flaming Lips’ swagger without ever simply ripping anything off.
Owning Up to Everyone, meanwhile, feels deeply indebted to Elliott Smith. It’s pretty, slightly raw, though not as vulnerable as Smith (but then, who is?).
These aren’t random references. The Barr Brothers are clearly drawing from that late 90’s/early 00’s indie moment when bands made music that felt both intimate and epic.
Naturally might be the most audacious track here. It’s The Barr Brothers channelling The Beatles with genuine confidence, capturing that cosy familiar warm sound that made The Beatles so infectious.
In doing so, it lands probably nearer The Rutles’ Let’s Be Natural which is actually the highest compliment possible. Add in a few fancy production flourishes even George Martin might’ve approved of, and you’ve got something special.
Closer Upsetter is gloriously off-kilter from everything that came before, but too much fun to question. It’s as ballsy as it is silly, and it knows it.
Not many bands could pull off this kind of change of gear, but The Barr Brothers make it look easy.
After the beautiful Sleeping Operator and the more muscular Queens Of The Breakers albums, Let It Hiss finds The Barr Brothers in a contemplative mood.
Throughout, their influences have never been wider or more obvious, yet somehow that only works to make them sound more like The Barr Brothers.
It’s true, Let It Hiss doesn’t have the individual standout moments as immediate as Little Lover or It Came To Me, that you simply can’t shake, but it’s possibly their most cohesive album yet.
An album, not a collection of moments, it feels like a considered nod to the music that shaped them, acknowledging the deep love they have for their heroes and why they chose this path.
It does so without being crushed by the weight of those giants, and instead helps them grow into something more themselves.
That takes guts, the kind you need to make a record this good.
