Sore Eros & Kurt Vile – Jamaica Plain EP

Long before The War On Drugs, prior to signing to Matador, and a good decade previous to his most recent, triumphal album Wakin On A Pretty Daze, Kurt Vile made some distinctly lo-fi, largely instrumental recordings with ex-Violator Robert Robinson (aka Sore Eros). While spending his days as a forklift driver, Vile filled his nights with putting together strange, stoned collaborations, three of which show up here on the Jamaica Plain EP, so titled due to the suburb of Boston in which it was recorded.

It would be trite to say that the seeds of Vile’s career are sown, his now obvious talent foreshadowed, his future successes predicted by these three slight songs, and also incorrect. While the EP is pretty and occasionally more than that, it does feel a little like a quick rummage through the cupboards to see what can be exploited of the gear Vile has hanging around in there.

Opener “Jamaica Plain” runs to nearly seven minutes of acoustic arpeggio progressions augmented with fairly delicious electronic hums, pulsating guitar, distant drums and vaguely threatening piano. It’s a sad movie theme interspersed with barely perceptible chattering that, around the 2 minutes 10 second mark skitters into life with a programmed beat that leads us into a more psychedelic take on the original sequence. It’s ethereal, it’s tuneful, it’s indicative of a youthful try-anything approach tempered by a solid idea of aesthetics.

“Serum” offers a crumbling vocal from Robinson and a vague, blurred backing track which, when combined with lines like “…and your blood on the floor” give a distinctly uneasy edge to the whole endeavour. It sounds semi-improvised, vaguely Fahey-ish, sad and gone.

Our last taste is “Calling Out Of Work”, an insistent little electric strum that morphs into decidedly spacey territory and calls to mind elements of Youth Lagoon or even more esoteric adventurers like the great man Brian Eno himself. Electro-birds chirrup, that strangely evocative sound of high-pitched, space-age sadness envelops and we’re left more with an idea that the pair would be destined to soundtrack experimental films rather than in Vile’s case, write hit records.

While Robinson has steered himself well clear of the mainstream preferring to remain in the DIY world of underground releases and run his band from Enfield in Connecticut, Vile has obviously become something of a critics’ darling and as near to a star as his brand of drugged Neil Young-isms could bring someone. This EP is more for fans of Robinson than Vile, though those picking it up just for name recognition won’t be disappointed as long as they don’t ask for more than what’s on offer – an absorbing but brief ambient interlude.