Sunset Provision: "By Friday I Will Be Gone"
By George Bass | 11 January 2010
Who wants revenge on meteorology? Well get behind me in the queue. I’ve had it with black ice and all-night foot-freeze; I’ve had it with taping burst pipes together. I’ve also had it with my Christmas binge of UK garage offshoots, and need something warm/drowsy to push me into Buddhism. Thanks to nine days of plummeting mercury I’ve gone arse-over-tit more times than Todd Carty, and envy anyone with access to shirt-friendly climate. Snow here in England is too much like Ecstasy: it drops, it’s beautiful, your head hurts.
These facts considered, Gabriel Sunset is probably my biggest envy right now. Launching himself as Sunset Provision with three mp3s as a starter, Gabriel writes indie guitar songs in the dry high twenties, soothing as pool-water running off your elbows. At first I thought “By Friday I Will Be Gone” was a very, very indirect nod at last week’s Doctor Who finale, but now I’m convinced it’s a well-behaved goodbye note with a wax seal by Ola Podrida. A hazy strum floats over miles of shimmering freeway, bound for somewhere potentially Californian but still as far from the Governator as his Pumping Iron (1977) co-stars. Hums Gabriel: “I’m estranged but not afraid / Hate is what I’ve come accustomed to / So when you shout your silly names / I do feel at home but I know I must be on my way.” And off he goes, head out the window, the wind tousling his hair like the sea breezes will. As a feathery blood relation of “By The Time I Get To Phoenix” you can imagine his ex-partner hearing this, disgusted at the way the song soars with its victory Jew’s Harp outro. “I’ve picked a place and I don’t want to see you there,” coos the tan-man, bound for a naturalist future. She’ll find you. Shut down your Facebook