by Stewart Mason
Part of the new mini-trend of rural British psychedelia that spawned Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, the Beta Band, and Gomez, Arnold is a young trio from a small village in Kent whose full-length debut, 1998's Hillside, positively trounces the demo-quality EP that had preceded it. From the first notes of the ghostly opener &Fleas Don't Fly,& Arnold's intriguing mixture of Floydian atmospherics, Robert Wyatt-style whimsy and post-post-punk stylistic diversity makes Hillside one of the most ambitious debut albums of its year. These slowly unfolding, mostly minor-key songs blend acoustic guitars, vintage synths, tape effects, and found sound into a compelling form of lo-fi psych pop. A couple of tracks have an unfortunate element of weird for weird's sake, especially the expendable and overlong spoken word interlude &Rabbit.& Most of the time, though, singing drummer Phil Morris' breathy voice and Mark Saxby's textured guitar raise the tunes beyond the merely clever or trippy. Songs like the mournful &Windsor Park,& which is slowly overwhelmed by a rising tide of white noise, or the harsher &Ira Jones Goes to the Country& recall the fuzzy desperation of Big Star's Sister Lovers, but on playfully experimental tracks like the near-montage &Rubber Duck (Parts One, Two, and Three)& and the Teenage Fanclub-like raver &Moroccan Roll (Part Two),& Arnold show an endearing sense of humor that keeps Hillside from sounding mopey.