Phox - ‘1936'

In the last year I’ve noticed that my music taste has developed into a sort of three-pronged trident. By that vague and unnecessary metaphor I mean only that there seem to be three distinct kinds of sound I keep returning to: whenever I listen to something new and like it, odds are it fits into one of the three.

The first features a smooth bed of electronic or heavily-produced sounds coupled with striking, soulful vocals. Sometimes they also feature a little bit of sax. Or a lot. This category spans everyone from Chet Faker to London Grammar to Phoria, and also includes this fresh Sampha/SBTRKT collaboration.

The second is characterised by honest guitar bands writing straightforward indie rock songs. Inventive and unpretentious are not mutually exclusive, and songs that emphasise this with catchy, original songwriting and unreserved energy have been catching my attention. The best example I can think of is Tokyo Police Club’s fantastic 9-minute single ‘Argentina (Parts I, II, III)’, from this year’s Forcefield.

The third, on the softer side, features a lot of guitar-shaped acoustic instruments, and invariably has a twang of folk or americana to it. Whether it’s the soaring melodies of your Mumford & Sons spin-offs, earnest little bands like recent discovery Morningsiders, or quiet, sad songs from the likes of Benjamin Francis Leftwich, there’s something refreshing and natural about this corner of the modern soundscape.

To finally get to the point, '1936’ by Phox falls into the third category. Nostalgic lyrics and delicate harmonies flit around inside an elegant arrangement, and the listening experience is like having the music played for you in an intimate live show in a log cabin in the woods with an audience of one.

Their self-titled debut is out 24 June. Inhale gently below.