“These are white winter hymnals in the middle of summer. Like you’d imagine the Band to sound from their reviews, or what you might expect from the phrase ‘cosmic American music’ once mystifyingly ascribed to Gram Parsons. It’s roots rock meets heartbreak pop. CSN&Y with synthesisers, only better than that sounds, with a My Morning Jacket-esque sense of quietly simmering drama. Anticipate heaps of echo/reverb and the sound of drumsticks tapping the metal part of the kit, with apologies for the technical terminology.”
Holed up in Iwanusa’s grandmother’s New Hampshire barnhouse, they began to work through ideas in long jam sessions, cultivating and tweaking a folksy post-rock template that’s reliant on nuanced interplay between the band members. The result is Caveman, a sophomore album that embraces the spacey expanses and mournful, low-key melodies only hinted at on their debut. Gone is the straightforward thump of songs like “My Time” or the placid alt-country of “Old Friend”, replaced by stranger, more confident experiments like the lurching, ethereal “Over My Head” or the Nebraska-echoing “I See You”.
“Regardless, Caveman isn’t short on efforts to move the band’s sound into uncharted territories. In an age where so many group’s are driven by a sole songwriter/creative force, it’s exhilarating to hear an album that’s almost stubbornly democratic, the confidence that the members of Caveman possess in one another being their most prized asset.”
“Since forming in 2010, the New York five-piece Caveman have been slowly garnering attention for their loose, deceptively expansive indie-folk rock. Their music carries both a professional air and world-weary rasp, an impression that’s borne out of the group’s credentials, and overlapping lives, as journeyman veterans of NYC’s massive music scene for the better part a decade.”