Omma Cobba’s self-titled debut is so blurry and hazy you can barely read the track listing on the back cover. Working between the vague boundaries of blues, folk, and early rock, the Halifax-born Toronto-based band claims to have recorded most of its album in an RV while travelling across Europe. True or not, the reverb-drenched production and trails of echoing vocals do effortlessly evoke the mysteries of the open road.
Most songs stick to the thump of a single drum accompanied by a maracca or tambourine, a sparse bass line rendered as a throb, and a few insistent guitar chords. Singer Dan Miller’s vocals provide variety, ranging from an effortless drawl on “Some People Say You’re No Good” to perfect wordless harmonies on “Policeman.”
Omma Cobba channel half-remembered twangs and echoes into something filled with sadness and wonder, evoking the morose ballads of Japanese psychedelic group Les Rallizes Dénudés. The result is low-key, relaxed, and shockingly good.
