The curse of the cassette more like. I never thought I’d see that day when that much lambasted music format - the audio cassette - would make a return to the marketplace. But surely it has with over 600 little labels across the world releasing their wares on this near obsolete format and Peenko Records taking that route to market with “Randolph’s Leap and The Curse of the Haunted Headphones”.
Randolph’s Leap seem, strangely enough, well suited to being released on an obsolete bit of plastic that few have the means to play. Contrary to the approach taken by so many bands in Scotland, they eschew the never mind the quality feel the width line of sonic attack and instead rely on sheer understatement to make their impact. Many of the songs on this release sound like little more than demos but all possess a remarkable sensitivity, dry wit and, dare I say it, charm. The majority of that is down to the song writing skills of Adam Ross and his compadres. Neatly squeezing the proverbial square peg of the misfit into a lyrical round hole of life fifteen times might seem like a Morrissey style ennui overload but it is to this band’s credit that you never feel like working for the Samaritans just to get some comic relief.
So, of the songs, “News” throws loss into the spotlight in little more than a minute and “Level Two” appears as an incongruous lo-fi interlude between two much greater songs – the so elegantly melodic yet bleak so that it could have been written by Ray Davies “Dying In My Sleep and the minimalist folk meets twee pop tantrum (as if this band would ever actually manage a tantrum…) that is “On That Fateful Day”.
I suppose what I am saying is that cassettes are quaint and Randolph’s Leap are nothing if not quaint in terms of today’s music business. Strong on subtlety and intelligence, Randolph’s Leap remain the anachronist’s choice and this release does not change that fact.