Sinombre - Curves Of Sirens CD

I mention "polite" because at first the trio seem oddly wary of the spotlight, preferring to flirt with momentum rather than calling too much attention to any one aspect of their sound. The guitars squall and writhe throughout the first four tracks without ever really becoming crisp or clear enough to attract undue attention, and the drums click along, reflexively holding the whole enterprise together. Then the tone shifts during the legitimate rock frenzy of the arch and crashing "Swallowtail" and the pressingly propulsive "Birdsong", and suddenly Sinombre feel like a band emerging from their shell mid-album. Even when they close with a drone, it feels like a much more defined sound than the one they began with.

It isn't until my second go-round with Curves of Sirens that I notice I'm completely wrong in the previous statement.

True, the group's rock muscles are flexed after several songs, and the latter half of the disc does indeed sound more confident -- but then, so does the beginning. There's a certain strength in the ominous fragility that I missed the first time through, as if I were waiting impatiently for the thing to get started without realizing that it had already been creaking to life all around me. The undying creep of "Thanks, Anyway" weaves a misleadingly frail air about itself and begins the album in a deceptive light, but that deception is almost certainly deliberate. By the time you've reached the end of the road, you realize you're right back at the beginning. If Curves of Sirens were a film, it would be the kind of Usual Suspects "gotcha" that I've never before noticed in an album -- a sonic set-up. For that twist alone, I suggest giving it a spin. Sorry I spoiled the ending."

- Justin Kownacki, Splendid

"On CURVES OF SIRENS, the San Francisco-based Sinombre establishes a sense of balance between tranquility and despondency in the time it takes to bake a pie. These 10 songs can be both melancholy and lulling-often simultaneously... Here, pensive orchestrations cascade with an operatic beauty and remain calm and collected, while maintaining a sense of sedated mournfulness. "Radio" is a slow-building crescendo into somber cloudiness, and "If Found" is a glistening lullaby of muted horns and beautifully sung words. The augmented guitars of "Swallowtail" simply beg for Cancer Conspiracy and Elliott comparisons and occasionally break the volume threshold by at least a few notches. The rest of the record might be what Mineral may have sounded like if they had stayed with us throughout the years and taken on a female vocalist. Visit website and prepare to get your gloomy groove on."

-Dave Kargol, Skratch Magazine