Taylor Kirk’s croon flows out of speakers like codeine syrup. Slow, thick, and trippy, the Timber Timbre (pronounced tim-ber tam-ber) singer’s voice destabilizes their music. Skilled at putting together dark soundscapes that pull sonic elements from doo-wop, the blues, and Lynchian noir, the band makes music that’s like an elegant bottle that Kirk keeps trying to escape from.
Based in Canada, the trio of Kirk, Mathieu Charbonneau, and Simon Trottier have been releasing evocative-slow burners since 2006’s Cedar Shakes. While they’re named for the cabin they used to record in, Timber Timbre make music for city boys and girls. It’s sinewy, nocturnal music that’s meant to soundtrack long nights wasted away in dark bars with velvet paintings of Elvis on the wall, cold-blooded music for lounge lizards looking to keep a low profile.
“Oh, it’s a bad, bad ritual,” Kirk sings on 2011’s Creep On Creepin’ On. “Oh, but it calms me down.” His band is the sound of people relaxing into their bad rituals: pouring one too many drinks, having that smoke you swore off, calling that lover whose number shouldn’t still be in your phone.
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