Review: A Sunny Day in Glasgow – Ashes Grammar

I’m not one to pigeonhole bands by where they come from, after all not every band from Seattle is grungy, nor is every band from Nashville stuck on country.

But after a first listen of Ashes Grammar by A Sunny Day in Glasgow, I was rather sure I had the band pegged as European, maybe not Scottish (too obvious) but certainly from the UK. Those Banco de Gaia electronic interludes, the dreamy Cocteau Twins (easy reach, I know) lyrics, that overt Sigur Ros resonance – no doubt they were from across the pond.

So it makes perfect sense they’re from – Philadelphia. Philadelphia? Rocky Balboa, obnoxious sports fans, cheesesteaks?

Amazingly – yes.

From the City of Brotherly Love, directed by Ben Daniels and his sisters Robin and Lauren, comes an impossible dream of an album, laid out like a delicate meal. The 22-song disc moves with purpose, whetting your appetite with a gentle opening (Slaughter Killing Courage and Failure), a determined middle (Close Chorus, Shy, Nitetime Rainbows), and a satisfying ending (Staring at a Disadvantage, Headphone Space). In between are seamless pauses of sound, some full songs others instrumental experiments, which bend and fold like conversations between courses.

Despite its hour-long run time, Ashes never lingers nor overstays its welcome – when it ends it comes as a surprise, which is fitting. For a Philadelphia band to create such music is a revelation, evidence the unexpected comes from the oddest of places.

So give it up for ambient pop and cheesesteaks.

Only in America.