Felt and their music exist largely in the realm of the existential. The reason for this may be two fold: Felt never received mainstream recognition despite a career spanning 1979-1989 and their titles were such as Crumbling Antiseptic Beauty and Forever Breathes the Lonely Word. Beyond sound word choice is what project Felt into a realm of mystery far greater than if they would have been on the cover of NME weeks straight singing the clichés of their contemporaries. Felt are amidst the what would have been artists begging for their story and records to be examined, their minimal yet melodic guitar solos and at times prog-rock at times motorik and at times folk sound begins to seem like something Sartre would have appreciated.
In what the news calls the largest storm in years I sit on my couch on the computer feeling anxious. I haven’t gotten new music in what seems like months and it is beginning to wear on my consciousness. I go out in search of a CD from a band called Felt, all I know is they were around in the early eighties and I really, really like the song Crystal Ball. This begins my journey. I forget how going to a music store makes me feel normal again and even though it ends up being expensive the physical search fulfills something much greater than space on my iPod. I go to the store that will have it for sure and it is not there, I drive to the second best option and the slot where Felt is written in Sharpie is empty. In a desperate effort I go across the street to a mass-market bookstore that also functions as a music shop, not there. The helpful sales associate tells me I can I order it online but I need it now. Along the way I have picked up many things so this trip has not been completely futile. I am almost home and I keep going to one last stop and they have nothing. I return home happy with my purchases but still wanting what I initially set out for, I go on iTunes and purchase it. Here I am full circle doing what I did not intend to do however, equally happy that the music now exists in my home.
Creating art exists both for the creator and the audience the problem is that, for the creator, the moment the piece is created the cycle begins again self satisfaction becomes a concept, an oasis, a place one can never truly get to. Following is a quote from an article written for NME April 1986 by Mick Sinclair:
“Because Felt are less a collection of people than a collection of songs. All of which carry a discernible spirit of Feltness refined and distilled into three or so minutes and recognised by a bristle of guitar chords – golden in texture and tastefully frayed at the edges – given meaning by a lyric seemingly dallying on the frontiers of some other dimension.
But while Felt believers and devotees al have their favourite example, the dysfunction of a unique sound is songs which sound the same. Felt's entire set (about 40 minutes) is a trail of discarded permutations in the search for the one magical combination which would have a sesame effect on the gates of perfection. So we're left with a succession of songs each not quite as good as the next one might be...
But never is.”
Felt may be remembered as a band who simply made music but their memory primarily lives on in the bands Felt has influenced. One can hear them in many bands, Belle and Sebastian, Pavement, Sea and Cake and the list goes on.
Following are two songs from the album Absolute Classic Master Pieces, Crystal Ball and Sunlight Bathed the Golden Glow.
Discography:
Let The Snakes Crinkle Their Heads To Death 2007
Crumbling The Antiseptic Beauty 2006
Stains on a Decade 2003
Absolute Classic Master Pieces 1992
Me And A Monkey On The Moon 1989
Train Above The City 1988
The Pictorial Jackson Review 1988
Gold Mine Trash 1987
Forever Breathes The Lonely Word 1986
The Splendour Of Fear 1984
The Strange Idols Pattern And Other Short Stories 1984
Crumbling The Antiseptic Beauty/The Splendour Of Fear 1982
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