
A sprawling 26-track scrapbook of tape-saturated indie pop. From basement demos to studio b-sides, it captures a decade of sun-dappled Missouri melancholy.
October 17, 2011 · Moorworks
Listening to Tape Club feels like being handed a shoebox full of unlabeled cassettes and finding that every single one contains a perfect, fragile melody. It is a sprawling, 26-track document of Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin’s first decade, moving from the hiss-heavy basement recordings of 2002 to the more refined, Chris Walla-produced studio sessions of 2009. Despite the varying fidelity, a singular spirit of Midwestern sincerity binds the collection together. It is the sound of friends making music in attics, yoga studios, and carriage houses, capturing the specific, sun-dappled melancholy of Springfield, Missouri.
How does Tape Club sound next to the rest of Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin's catalogue?
The vocals lean far further into harmonies than the rest of the catalogue.
Cassette uses generative AI to enrich its catalog. How we use AI →