The Cat's Miaow - When You Smiled And Turned Away
Being the long-winded rambler that I am, I've also got a soft spot for those who are able to walk it, say it, and wave toodles. Particularly in music, where the feat of cramming four or more good songs on a 45 RPM 7" single draws an enthusiastic round of applause from yours truly. Adventures In Stereo and Dymaxion are two bands that immediately come to mind, and I'll admit that the definition of "good" is an MPG metric that varies from vehicle to vehicle.
Listening to the relatively recent Blue and Red compilations from The Beatles irrefutably demonstrated that Gods Of The Under-Two-Minute-Thirty Pop Song truly walked the earth. Somewhere between the deities and the muggles hover the masters of brevity, and among their number I would place The Cat's Miaow.
Full disclosure: I've helped out with designing sleeves for some of their releases (as well as those by their resonant relations, Hydroplane), and while that doesn't mean I have a specific horse in the current race, I do sport a favorable disposition.
'When You Smiled And Turned Away' is, technically speaking, the quartet's "proper" full-length debut, decades after their "heyday" of crafting tiny pop gems on a four-track in Melbourne, cast downstream on equally Lilliputian indie labels. Yes, there's been a "rediscovery" and a "revival," thanks to a couple of recent retrospectives curated by the World Of Echo label, and the scare quotes are intended to emphasize the relative scale of these events. They may be eclipsed by tectonic revivals and resurrections in rock, but then that's been the whole point, being hopelessly overshadowed and still thriving.
"What about the songs, Mrs. Lincoln," you ask? Fourteen songs in under thirty-two minutes. That's roughly two minutes and seventeen seconds on average, but that's just one of numerous dimensions and parameters at work here. Jangle pop seems too brusque when applied to the gentle chime and propulsion on display, while twee is simply too dismissive. The band plays songs of loss, yearning, and regret without the albatross of dread or the dandelion puffs of preciousness. They don't float on the breeze. They are the breeze, pushing through the open window just long enough to make you notice and then challenge you to remember.
That's what these folks did back in the day, and they've done it again. Yes, the "production" may be "better," which I find amusing in this day when some people are intentionally reaching for that frequency-throttled "lo-fi" sound via plug-ins, effects pedals, and thrift store tape machines, and frankly it suits the band better now.
To quote a particularly cool panther-walker, don't call it a comeback. Closure doesn't fit the bill either, while continuation might actually be the most fitting.