Back to site

Meadow House - Tongue Under A Ton Of Nine Volters

Image of Meadow House - Tongue Under A Ton Of Nine Volters

£7.00 - On Sale

18 surreal and highly idiosyncratic pop songs, hand made at home on multi-track tape recorder by Dan Wilson.

Scroll down to listen.

Dan Wilson's Youtube Channel
MP3 Download via Bandcamp


Special Offer - Click here to purchase name-your-price digital album via bandcamp!


From a review by Dave Mandl (WFMU, The Wire) in The Brooklyn Rail (NYC):
Tongue Under a Ton of Nine-Volters, the first full-length Meadow House release, doesn’t provide the same direct view into Wilson’s psyche as his anything-goes, schizophrenic-and-proud-of-it radio show [for Resonance FM], consisting as it does of songs only, but the connection is clear. The music is obviously the product of a zero-to-sixty mind with a head full of ideas that are driving him insane (so to speak). In the tradition of other brilliant, uncategorizable home recordists - R. Stevie Moore is an obvious comparison - Wilson, who is still only twenty-one, seems to have listened to and digested every piece of contemporary music in the world, regurgitated it, and somehow incorporated all of it into his work while retaining his own unmistakable style. Like Moore’s work, all of Wilson’s is nominally rock-based, but Wilson is as quintessentially English as Moore is American. (The ghost of Syd Barrett lurks, inevitably, just below the surface on more than one track here, though Meadow House’s music is far more dense and hyperkinetic.) And his oddball-genius pop is about as good as it gets. Wilson, who plays all instruments and sings all vocals, intones his darkly humorous poetry - worth the price of admission alone - over marching metallic percussives, kazoos, unidentifiable ‘Eastern’ stringed instruments, various toys, fake woodwinds, and odd overdubbed voices that cover all bases from Lothar and the Hand People to English music hall to ‘80s disco-pop to surreal antifolk to (of course) Beatles-through-a-shredder. He tackles stream-of-consciousness psychedelia on the lovely ‘Hippy Blankets’ and gleam-in-the-eye, bad-boy mischievousness on the ode to voyeurism, ‘My Window-Cleaning Days Are Over.’ And, inevitably, he breaks down the fourth wall at will, as in ‘Pins and Needles,’ when he interrupts his train of thought to mutter, ‘Let’s get this feedback loop going.’ If there’s any hope at this point of saving rock music from becoming a tiresome, endless nostalgia trip, it’s here. Get it before the hip documentary filmmakers ruin him.