Send "A Band of Bees " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 I wouldn't say that A Band of Bees (or as they're known everywhere but the U.S., the Bees) have ever been an aggressive band, but their modern takes on psychedelia have often had a fair amount of thump to them. Their last album, 2007's Octopus, got downright funky in places, and their reggae flourishes have always seemed to stem from an actual appreciation for the genre rather than some association with stoner culture. Their 2002 cover of Os Mutantes' "A Minha Menina" is about as ragged as they've ever been.But even by their standards, Every Step's a Yes is unusually mellow and spaced-out. The Tropicália of that Os Mutantes cover has since become a more prominent element of their sound. Band leader Paul Butler, having spent time away in the Amazon and working with Devendra Banhart, seems to have internalized the feel of bossa nova and samba more than the actual rhythms and sounds, though-- these songs showcase a gentle melodicism as akin to Gilberto Gil as it is to Pink Floyd's "Arnold Layne". I guess the simplest term for it would be psych-folk. The band is still a six-piece, but unlike on the last album, they don't sound that big-- everybody pulls back here behind the gauzy vocal harmonies, quiet organ blending with acoustic strumming, and a lot of laid-back drumming. Even the web-only single, "Silver Line", is a whisper of a song that doesn't seem likely to grab a lot of non-fans (it's just not that hook-y), but it nicely distills their pastoral vibe. The standout of the album is "Winter Rose", which opens with a haunting guitar part reminiscent of Bembeya Jazz's slow-burning six-string fireworks, before it slips easily into a reggae-ish rhythm. Horns answer Butler's lead vocal with dubbed-out bursts of melody. It's psychedelic, but not in an obvious or over-the-head way....full text |
| Bbc |
| The Bees are quite an odd band. Not in any self-conscious or grating fashion, but in the way their music is barely acquainted with modernity yet always seems to sound fresh. From the opener on Every Step’s a Yes, lead single I Really Need Love, it's impossible to feel any anger or resentment towards this fourth album from the Isle of Wight crew. After all, "Don’t you just love it when you open your window in spring / don’t you know you love it when the sunshine falls in," is a superb couplet that wouldn't sound out of place on Love's Forever Changes. The music that accompanies the lines is just as heart-warming. Speedy acoustic strumming, Paul Butler's joyous croon: it's enough to make listeners think the UK had a proper summer this year. Winter Rose is entirely different. Trumpet-inflected reggae crossed with more than a hint of clanging underwater dub? Great stuff. Third song in and there's another change in tack. This time Fleet Foxes are invoked, albeit by way of Simon & Garfunkel. Things get just as wistful for Tired of Loving, which recalls the unfussy melodic wonder of Turin Brakes’ underrated Jackinabox album. Meanwhile, there's some zither-heavy fun with Pressure Make Me Lazy and a scuzzy but loveable closer in Gaia which recalls the band's own breakout cover of Os Mutantes' A Minha Menina. The cumulative effect of hearing this album reinforces its makers’ songwriting ability (previously cemented on three excellent LPs, particularly 2007's Octopus), but also suggests a new peer group of bands. In 2010 Best Coast, Beach House and Wild Nothing have released beautiful collections made for the emotional and physical wilderness, but which also work as perfect listening for city living. Every Step’s a Yes is a worthy partner to those band's records....full text |
| Altsounds |
| Why has it become so shamefully easy to forget how great The Bees are? It can’t be anything to do with the cast-iron shimmer of their songs either. On this fourth collection of loveliness, love and harmonies ring truer than a Hobbit’s honest heart. It sounds like an impossible beauty pageant held in breathable outer space. And the lyrics can’t be the problem either, as on 'I Really Need Love' and the slightly plaintive 'No More Excuses', you have some of the best words these Isle of Wight men have committed to record. It’s as sleepy as a sit-down protest in DFS, as relaxing as a wizard’s backrub. If you’re unfamiliar with The Bees, or their swoonsome take on 60s garage rock and psychedelic folk – you are a naked fool with your hand planted firmly in a metaphorical angry hive of Africanized Insecta. These guys got nominated for the Mercury prize back when the thing was deemed more important and worthy than it is now. That CD - Sunshine Hit Me – was famously recorded in a shed. This expansive effort has a touch of the Devendra Banhart's about it. It’s all foresty, deserty and trippy. It’s as sleepy as a sit-down protest in DFS, as relaxing as a wizard’s backrub. The largely acoustic based guitars blend easily with an occasional burst of strings, as on the dream-inducing Island 'Love Letter' or the early Beta Band-esque 'Skill of the Man'. Which reminds me of the problem with The Bees - and why their every breath, song and whisper is not universally lauded. And also why rose petals are not dropped in their path, every time they leave the house. The Bees, as a name – just can’t be taken seriously. You half-expect them to do triple-album behemoths about this year’s pollen count – so apparently, waif-like and inconsequential is their moniker. It makes The Beta Band sound like a biker gang, in comparison. The Moths - you could get away with that. Or The Wasps, or The Midges even. Any of those would do, and this renamed and widely heralded collective would be lifted right up where they belong, on the shelf of modern indie band greats. While we’re waiting for that to happen, buy this joyous CD....full text |
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