Malcolm Sosa will be the last man called sissy. He might have been the kid you’d find outside playing trucks in the dirt, fingering a football rather than a dictionary, figuring things out by dismantling and examining them, or imagining, hands-on, with action figures. Sosa conducts serious, sweaty boy energy like silver conducts amperes, readily impressing strength and smarts. I imagine we’d more likely battle a point of contention over beer in a friendly armwrestle than at Scrabble with Chablis. All said, though, there’s a gentle sweetness that shines through his silky, raspy ramblings. Sosa’s direct, masculinely hoarse voice beckons with taut tenderness.
The songs of Rademacher are considerations – intelligent, open, active, ongoing conversations – the kind you might have in your head or possibly share with a closest friend. They sound like internal dialogues or close confidences – more explorations than emphatic decision makers.
Interestingly, Rademacher’s songs evoke the fine line between theory and action – between tangled in complicated thought and free in the simplicity of actual being.
Maybe the band is named after the late Hans Rademacher, known not only for his abstract mathemetical brilliance but also for his general kindness to others. I didn’t ask. But it would make sense. The subtle genius of Rademacher elegantly provokes thoughts and feelings, which categorizes Rademacher as a rarely sophisticated popular indie music art form.
Relatively understated on the whole, Rademacher humbly, skillfully kicks musical ass. Greer plays keys, inserting just the right effects, rocks the bass with flowing precision and adds complimentary female vocal harmonies. Eli, on the session here (an LA player), contributes unfailing drums. Sosa leads, killer on guitar as well as singing. They Are Always Into That, a tense hot-potato with an easy groove, well exemplifies the coalescence of the band’s musical abilities.
Fantastically lurking bass and Sosa’s signature narrative in Charles, thrilling yet lustrously straightforward, give the feeling of the edge of fantasy, reminding me of the classic adventure, Harold and the Purple Crayon, one of the niftiest books ever for anybody with an imagination and the ability to feel.
“Don’t wait until the water is wet to drink.” Sosa’s soft, welcoming urge, “C’mon now,” in You’re Never Gonna Hear From Me is complimented by Greer’s vocal harmonies. Sexy, smooth and attractive.
Magic accomplishes complex awe, the dual existence of artistic, dreamy intellectual and wide-awake, earthy practical in its opening with a stream of lyrics, “Singing about those secret places you secretly want to be, oh and if you know this city then why can’t you find a place ot get your hair cut?”
If You Know conveys an uplifting, reassuring vibe – an all-around epic, feel-good tune.
Arkansas lends over 6 minutes of luscious immersion in the devilishly delicious Rademacher bubble.
Listen to the tracks (option/click to download):