Album Review: The Strait Gait Or A Great Difficulty In Getting To Heaven by Boduf Songs
Alright, so here's the deal with The Strait Gait Or A Great Difficulty In Getting To Heaven by Boduf Songs. This 2008 release from the UK is one of those albums that kinda sneaks up on you. It’s not your typical rock or electronic record—it’s more like a moody, lo-fi experiment where acoustic vibes meet shoegaze fuzz and drone-y soundscapes. If you’re into stuff that feels raw and unpolished but still has depth, this might be right up your alley.
Let me break it down for ya. The album was put out by Latitudes, which makes sense because this thing feels like a journey—kinda uneven at times, but full of little moments that stick with you. You got Mathew Sweet handling vocals (and man, his voice is haunting as hell), Wesley Goatley shredding on guitar, and Clive Henry keeping things grounded with drums. They all wear multiple hats here too—recording, mixing, performing—you name it. Feels like a DIY labor of love, and honestly, that adds to its charm.
Now, I wanna talk about two tracks that really stood out to me. First off, there’s "That Angel Was Fucking Piss." Yeah, yeah, the title’s wild, but don’t let that distract you. The song itself is this slow-burner that starts off with these delicate, almost fragile guitar notes. Then, before you know it, everything swells into this wall of sound that just hits different. There’s something about how Mathew’s vocals float over the chaos—it’s equal parts beautiful and unsettling. Like, you can’t tell if you’re being comforted or haunted, and that tension keeps you hooked.
Then there’s “Please Extract My Teeth With Your Rustiest Pliers (For Redemptive).” Man, what a mouthful, both in title and vibe. This track leans heavier into the drone side of things, with layers of noise building up until it feels like you’re drowning in static—but in the best way possible. It’s hypnotic, like staring at a flickering light for too long. And when the percussion kicks in halfway through? Damn, it gives the whole thing this heartbeat-like pulse that makes you feel alive even though the music sounds kinda...dead? Hard to explain, but trust me, it works.
What I love most about this album is how it doesn’t try too hard to impress. It’s messy, imperfect, and kinda rough around the edges, but that’s exactly why it sticks with you. Listening to it feels like flipping through an old photo album filled with blurry pictures—nothing’s crystal clear, but every snapshot tells a story.
Here’s the kicker though: after listening to this album, I couldn’t help but think about how much we take our teeth for granted. Seriously, who knew a song could make you appreciate dental hygiene? Guess that’s the power of good art—it sneaks up on you in ways you never expect.
