Recorded on an eight-track in
Luke Temple's Brooklyn bedroom, Snowbeast bears all the idiosyncrasies of its creator's home. There's intimacy here -- particularly whenever
Temple's fragile, androgynous voice channels the wistful spirit of
Jeff Buckley -- and the folksy lilt of tracks like "People Do" (which, in the hands of a Nashville producer, could become the next country radio staple) lends a cozy feel to the album. At the same time,
Temple's music has an undeniably urban bent. "Owl Song" and "Time Rolls a Hill" are bold exercises in folk-tronica, combining
Temple's plucked banjo with percussion, bass, and discordant bleeps from an SK30 synthesizer. It's not enough to make Snowbeast a staple in Manhattan's dance clubs; rather, the record lands somewhere between the local coffeehouse and Brooklyn's downtown hipster enclaves. Those expecting a typical verse-chorus-bridge format won't find much past opening track "Saturday People," and even there, the carnival-styled chorus and percussive, polyphonic conclusion will leave most conventional listeners scratching their heads. Snowbeast doesn't cater to an easy audience, and most of its oddball charms don't reveal themselves until the second, third, or fourth spin. But those prepared to spend a day with
Luke Temple -- to let him properly present his musical Brooklyn, with its bedroom folk-pop and ornate flourishes -- will find that it's an enjoyably eccentric place.