Introduction
Hailing from Somerset, Jeremy Tulpin is nominally an indie singer-songwriter whose wide-ranging material sits somewhere between the multi-tracked beauty of Elliot Smith, the arty post-folk meanderings of Michael Gira and even, in places, the arch observations of Jarvis Cocker. His latest album, Planet Heaven is out now via the excellent Trapped Animal, an independent label (about whom we have had frequent cause to write) run by genuine music fans who seem to have an uncanny knack for selecting excellent artists for their roster.
Formats:
Regular readers will be familiar by now with Trapped Animal. A boutique label, they treat their small roster with immense care, usually creating an array of tempting formats for each release. Planet Heaven is no exception, if anything it exceeds previous offerings on the label, and Jeremy Tulpin fans can choose from the following: deluxe signed green vinyl, a “super backer” package (CD & vinyl); black vinyl; a digital backer package; CD wallets; a handmade lyric book; a hand-designed digipack CD; and various other packages including the option to have a concert in your own house!
Our review covers the green vinyl edition. Pressed on 180GSM vinyl, it is housed in a plain paper sleeve and comes with a 2-sided 10×10” card insert bearing lyrics and liner notes. As always with Trapped Animal, it is a high-quality release that fans will treasure.
The Album
The album opens amidst a somnolent haze of ambient noise, loosely plucked guitar, and semi-spoken vocals reminiscent of Roger Waters’ work on The Wall. With a lyric that speaks to nature’s stately reclamation of human dwellings, it’s a haunting and evocative piece that will speak to those who enjoy raking through the archives of Young God records, and it sets a contemplative tone for the album. It’s followed by the languid guitar and subtle synths of Passing Through The Western Lagoon, a strange track that combines semi-ambient noise with a guided tour of England’s West coast.
Having set a hazy, dreamlike tone, the brief stab of electric noise that detonates at the start of Late To The Party comes as something of a surprise. A dynamic, pulsing piece of music, it sounds like the natural result of Flaming Lips and Pulp having accidentally conceived and, without sacrificing the impressive atmosphere already built up, it showcases a very different side to Jeremy’s songwriting. Rather calmer is the shoe-gaze-infused whimsy of Pigeon Song, which pairs reverb-drenched guitars with an understated vocal that captures a brief sense of the absurdity of everyday family life.
The first side wraps up with a pair of reflective pieces. The gentle, acoustic angelsad returns to the evocative soundscapes of the opening track, while Black Out (Interlude) neatly shifts from acoustic strum to a harder-edged riff that sees the thunder clouds gathering in the distance. An eerie closing number with a David Lynch vibe, it leaves you wondering where side two will take you.
Drop the needle and you’re greeted by Transformer, a track which, from the taut beat that drives the opening bars to the tightly wound high hat that runs throughout the verse, elicits a certain tension beneath the nimble bass line and liquid guitar. Rather different is the folksy strum of The Planets Temporary, which sounds like the Levellers covering Obscured By Clouds. Equally unexpected is the pleasantly grungy Stranger In The Garden which recalls nothing so much as the lo-fi wonder of Sebadoh (or, perhaps, Lou Barlow-led offshoot Folk Implosion), the crunchy guitar and rippling violin building to a wonderfully cathartic conclusion, the drums finally exploding into life as Jeremy repeats the song’s title over and over.
Emerging form the howling feedback that wraps up its predecessor, Moon Song is exactly the sort of subtle, Twin Peaks-esque mood piece its title implies. It leaves A Cosmic Joke to bring this quietly eclectic album to an end on a sweetly contemplative note – the album ending very much as it begun, as if we’ve come full circle alongside Jeremy over the course of these eleven lovely tracks.
A subtle, understated album, Planet Heaven finds Jeremy Tulpin delighting in the unexpected, with the eleven tracks on offer taking in everything from grungy lo fi to eerie prog. An album best heard from start to finish, it’s one of those records that draws you in, with each song leading you by the hand to the next, and it’s hard to imagine any one song as being particularly representative of the wonderful whole. Evocative and emotionally charged, Planet Heaven refuses to reveal all its secrets at once and you’ll find yourself returning time and again, often discovering a new favourite track on each new visit. Grab yourself a copy on vinyl, you won’t regret it! 9/10
