A.hidden.life.2019.dvdscr

Tempers third full-length album, Private Life, successfully progresses their cinematic aesthetic into a moodier and more introspective landscape. Private Life opens with “Capital Pains”, a lonely incantation that echoes the human desire to envy other people’s lives and endlessly chase our own insecurities. Surreal, isolated atmosphere backed by upbeat rhythm and melancholy refrain projected from “Capital Pains” perfectly set the tone expectation for Private Life. “Peace of Mind” crawls along as a dramatic dirge with Golestaneh imparting matters of loneliness and solitude, always looking from the outside and complemented with Cooper’s haunting resonance.

Have A Nice Life was formed in a time of Dan’s and Tim’s life that reflected concerns with depression and suicidal ideation. As the following for the project has grown, and Dan and Tim have aged and faced new life challenges with family and careers, their new album Sea of Worry reflects just that. Dread is the primary theme that is woven throughout Sea of Worry - the dread of aging, children growing up, and an increasingly uncertain future. However, Sea of Worry is Have A Nice Life at the peak of their powers; Dan and Tim’s unmistakable chemistry coupled with a propulsive backing band catapults them into stratosphere. These 7 tracks ebb and flow with noise and melody, and are so well-crafted it’s near impossible to get them out of your head. More concise and perhaps more straightforward than their past releases, Have A Nice Life has found new focus and discipline on Sea of Worry and the album is a triumphant addition to their ever-evolving discography.

When Chris Stewart set out to write and record his third album as Black Marble, he was newly living in Los Angeles, fresh off a move from New York. The environment brought much excitement and possibility, but the distance had proved too much for the car he brought along. With it out of commission indefinitely, he purchased a bus pass and planned his daily commute from his Echo Park apartment to his downtown studio, where he began to shape Bigger Than Life. The route wound all through the city, from the small local shops of Echo Park to the rising glass of the business district, to the desperation of Skid Row. The hurried energy of the environment provided a backdrop for the daily trip. When Stewart finally arrived at his studio, he’d look through his window at the mountains and the sky, seeing the beauty that makes L.A. unique — the same beauty his fellow commuters, some pushed to the edge of human endurance, had seen. That was the headspace he was in when he began to map out the syncopated drums and staccato arpeggiation of Bigger Than Life, an ode to his new condition and a shimmering synth-pop response to its cacophony.