Melancholy? Call 764-HERO

764-HERO

Salt Sinks and Sugar Floats

Traipsing down a staircase of emotional trial, cautiously stepping over the victims piled on the landing, then fumbling into the sheltered basement of emotions are Seattle emo-core duo 764-HERO. This week, Up Records releases their full-length debut, Salt Sinks and Sugar Floats, inviting lovers of the melancholy to follow a similar musical dream sequence.

Simultaneously a memoir of misunderstandings and a soundtrack for a rainy afternoon, Salt Sinks contrasts the complexities of human emotion in its lyrics with the most basic staples of sound: rhythm and melody. The style is stripped-down, clunky and sweet, filtered through John Atkins's vocals and guitars, and Polly Johnson-Dickinson's drum collaborations.

No stranger to musical poignancy, Atkins hails from Hush Harbor, a trio of like genre, now defunct after a single EP. Nevertheless, from that band's strewn ashes rose 764-HERO; the two bands share the trademarks of his heartfelt cries and chords of modest angst.

This time, however, Atkins's work is formulated around Johnson-Dickinson's (formerly of Bell Jar) straight forward, but not careless, percussion. Sans bass, the duo have reversed the "strength in numbers" mentality to that of a shrine for the simplistic, emphasizing all the quiet wonder filtered through just two musicians. The current project is named after a phone number in Washington, who's purpose serves to fight for justice in the carpool lanes: just a quirky little surprise, much like several of the band's songs.

Though seemingly half-baked at first listen, Salt Sinks consists of 11 articulate commentaries on sadness, vented through simplistic chords and beats. Rules, relationships and rejection might serve as fitting labels, were the album fitting categorization.

But the message cuts deeper, and the lyrics come back to haunt. Hours later, one might discover the lines "It makes sense to give up everyday, and I'm sorry is all I can say, and the pressure just taunts and complains" hidden deep in the subconscious, burned in place by "Sliding" and its catchy rants of dissatisfaction.

Kudos, as well, for "Pitiful Rattle" and its finely toned commentary on personal responsibilities and the troubling strings attached.The melody is sweet, thrown gently against Atkins's raised voice and Johnson-Dickinson's building drum work in the chorus.

Proving their worth to the heart-wrenched world, the duo manage to sway their listeners from pigeonholing great music to bands greater in number. The product: thoughtful hints of half-melody, stretched here and there to the wind-span of Atkins's voice, all the while a constant reminder that less is more.