What does a band do next when its first impression is quiet by lasting? If you’re Fountain, it’s work at your craft until the second result is as unrestrained as the first. The aptly named 2 is looser and wider, gaining mass like Marlon Brando to chew up scenery. Of course, Brando could always pull a convincing job when called upon, and Fountain are clearly capable of doing the same. The familiar odd stone-washed pop of Canada still permeates, but the kettle has become robust with the swells of nuanced pop from years (and decades) removed. Naming the whole spice shelf seems ridiculous, just know that when you’re hooked on strange pop frequencies and find that your stomach growls because it hasn’t been fed for some time, Fountain is always a go-to. 2 is another catchy set that feels at home on cassette because it’s timeless. It’s preparation is authentic, from the rather quick turnaround between albums and the self-released nature by which it enters the world. Minus Peter Grant and a major label, the growth and simplicity therein strikes a resemblance to the gods of thunder, expect replace the thunder with hand claps.
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