Last year, Fowler’s Bluff’s eponymous debut broke down the remaining barriers between jazz, jam, Southern rock and psychedelia with a warm, loose, grooving modern sound — the aural equivalent of a sunny-afternoon reefer buzz. It made the Pinellas group an instant regional favorite and reinforced the idea that, despite the ubiquity of ephemeral trends, some folks were still making music as accessible as it was unique.
The band’s new seven-track disc, Confluence, finds its members further refining the original sound Fowler’s Bluff claimed as its own right out of the gate. The songs’ deceptively laid-back vibe belies ambitious arrangements and striking emotional investment, as piano, new percussion and a capella passages fortify the group’s guitar-bass-and-drums lineup. The new disc is a bit — weirder, maybe? — that its predecessor, and showcases a band confident in its abilities, identity and direction. But that shouldn’t be taken as an implication that it’s a more challenging listen; for all of its experimentation and genre ignorance, Confluence is still immediately catchy, compelling and satisfying.
Critics' Rating: 4 out of 5 Stars
