It’s almost not fair. Both of these acts have appeared at the Cerbs HQ before, and both, to my knowledge, have never missed. We all know this is going to be good, is what I’m implying here. Even with expectations bated, however, Expo 70 and Plankton Wat impress with this split by way of their distinct, idiosyncratic methods. Plankton Wat’s side delivers more of those bittersweet acoustic riffs, augmented by electric guitar ghouls that float in and out of consciousness as if on the edge of sleep. That’s “When I Remember Her Name,” at least. “The Oracle” exists on the edge of Byrds country, abetted by percussive accompaniment that swipes the flies away like a horse’s tail. Swish. “Land’s End” reminds me of a solo Zach Cale between-songs jam, extended a bit, while “Faded Postcards” seals the deal with a rustic, ride-into-the-sunset jam with wobbling rhythms and the most solid foundation on offer here. Rich; oak-y. Expo 70? Couldn’t be further away stylistically. “Subtle Afterthoughts” builds its prog foundation slowly, almost painfully so, a la Bitchin Bajas/etc., and as the tones turn into zones of thick vibration an almost sinister feeling threatens to emerge and stamp out the peaceful bliss. Never happens though; instead a mystical loop, spaceship-button synths, and bird-call squiggles spin it all around and down the drain cleanly. From there it’s not difficult to predict what comes next. What strikes me is the effortlessness with which Justin Wright wields his considerable power. No signs of autopilot, either. Just steady craftsmanship. Make sure you put some thought into investing in this split before it goes the way of the limited-run buffalo.
More about: Plankton Wat / Expo 70
