taterbug

Listening to Charles Free’s music as Taterbug makes me think of that scene from Mister Lonely where, after performing a hammy, warm musical, the cast run through corn fields holding up gaslamps, laughing and singing into the night, to find their friend, Marilyn Monroe, hanging by the neck from a tree. This is where the music of Taterbug takes place – it is the sound of the weathered, faded machinery you find out in woods: rained on, rusty, but still working. It is Ariel Pink squared – not in terms of fidelity, but in terms of sheer emotional murk.

Charles sings over manipulated found tapes, or tapes he’s recorded himself, often with a trying amount of repetition (à la Liars’ ‘This Dust Makes that Mud’), but there is always an instant emotional connection with the snippets he chooses to loop, and with each cycle comes abstract, slight difference, like imagery working itself out in a lucid dream. Charles has “only loose connections” to the Night People label, yet his singular nature makes him even more interesting – like a kid you meet on holiday that does everything differently.

Taterbug - Raw Flower