Three Mile Pilot, Another Desert, Another Sea

Pete: And how do you take your coffee, Agent Cooper?

Cooper: Black as midnight on a moonless night.

Pete: Pret-ty black.

It’s an exchange from an episode of Twin Peaks, if you didn’t already guess. And it’s a pretty good descriptor of this album, too: Black as midnight on a moonless night. A lot of the tracks will deceive you, such as ‘The Year Of No Light,’ which is practically a power-pop song and almost seems penned by a Wings-era McCartney. But at its core—its deep, dark, black core, it’s a goddamn scary song.

This is all courtesy of San Diego’s now-defunct Three Mile Pilot, the remains of which are now spread between the sweet and airy light pop of Pinback and the blood-will-be-spilled-at-dusk bleakness of The Black Heart Procession. While both of Three Mile Pilot’s descendants are fine, extraordinary outfits, it’s here in this collection of atmospheric, awe-inspiring dirges and dark rock that this weird juxtaposition of musical styles crashes headlong, explodes upwards, and just keeps going and going, twisting and turning, morphing and melting.

Given that, there may be a Twin Peaks quote more appropriate to describe this album.

Cooper: Diane, I’m holding in my hand a small box of chocolate bunnies.


Andrew Womack is a founding editor of The Morning News. He is always working on the next installment of the Albums of the Year series at TMN. More by Andrew Womack

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