OCTOBER 15, 1993


Year After Year


We knew Idaho was something out of the ordinary the first time we heard their EP, The Palms, back in July. The four-song display of the duo’s beautiful despondency spilled over us in grey cascades of clear, cold and unflinching musical introspection and introversion. Needless to say, when we received the full-length debut album from the LA-based band, Year After Year, we were more than ready to once again to immerse ourselves in the deep, dark and frigid pool of the band’s creation.

Year After Year picks up right where The Palms left off. Idaho’s coalescence of dreaminess and tension is filled with emotional confusion, disillusionment and disenfranchisement with all this world has to offer. John Berry’s slow-death power chords and feedback dirges hover vulturelike above the album’s sprawling noisewash. Jeff Martin’s lethargic monotonic howls carry all the pain and hurt that ever was (perhaps that will ever be). Idaho does not wallow in their emotional wreckage, however. They ain’t exactly uplifting, they sure as hell ain’t happy music; what Idaho is, is fucking great. Their songs are empathic and compassionate, despite their forlorn and chilling atmospheres. Anybody who knows the grey lady also knows the only refuge from her is in the comfort of others who care about you. Idaho knows it, and once they get the recognition and airplay they deserve, so will the hopeless millions trapped within their protective walls. Tear them down and view the expansive vistas of Idaho. Outstanding tracks from Year After Year include “God’s Green Earth,” “Skyscrape” and “One Sunday.”