Omnivore
GAME THEORY - Across The Barrier of Sound: Postscript LP
$47.95
An album of miscellaneous demos, home recordings, live performances, and remixes.
"Scott Miller's melodic gift is what sets this band apart from the other Big Star-influenced bands. His songs subtly wander along in a rather unpredictable way, like meandering thoughts. The melodies are often rather long and complicated, with many eerie semitone moves up and down, followed by sudden leaps to falsetto. His voice is also distinctive, a bright but hushed voice that never really erupts or lets go. He sounds, most of the time, as if singing to no one in particular, as if he were alone in a tiny room, singing those songs as carefully as possible. Getting to know these melodies, within the bold skeleton of the drums and the power-chords, is an intricate and very personal thing that can easily become an obsession. Unlike another similar Mitch Easter-produced band from the early '80s, Game Theory never received the recognition they deserved. That also means they never ended up singing about "Shiny Happy People" or lamenting that "Everybody Hurts". In fact, Game Theory never sounded particularly happy, nor desperate. Their music was much closer to our everyday experience of vague whims, half-thoughts, glimses and doubts. They were (to carry on with the R.E.M. analogy) bound to be trapped under the wistful cloud of "South Central Rain" for a precious few albums before they called it quits in 1990."
"Scott Miller's melodic gift is what sets this band apart from the other Big Star-influenced bands. His songs subtly wander along in a rather unpredictable way, like meandering thoughts. The melodies are often rather long and complicated, with many eerie semitone moves up and down, followed by sudden leaps to falsetto. His voice is also distinctive, a bright but hushed voice that never really erupts or lets go. He sounds, most of the time, as if singing to no one in particular, as if he were alone in a tiny room, singing those songs as carefully as possible. Getting to know these melodies, within the bold skeleton of the drums and the power-chords, is an intricate and very personal thing that can easily become an obsession. Unlike another similar Mitch Easter-produced band from the early '80s, Game Theory never received the recognition they deserved. That also means they never ended up singing about "Shiny Happy People" or lamenting that "Everybody Hurts". In fact, Game Theory never sounded particularly happy, nor desperate. Their music was much closer to our everyday experience of vague whims, half-thoughts, glimses and doubts. They were (to carry on with the R.E.M. analogy) bound to be trapped under the wistful cloud of "South Central Rain" for a precious few albums before they called it quits in 1990."
