They say that after civilization finally collapses and cities become abandoned, plants will reclaim New York City beginning from Central Park and moving steadily outward in concentric circles until all the steel and concrete is completely hidden.
At the moment, you might say nature is a bit edged out. On a recent summer afternoon, I met Theo Angell at a little anomaly in the Bushwick area of Brooklyn called Flushing Farms. A few ears of corn, raspberry plants and flowers look like someone transplanted fifteen square feet of Eden into a maze of industrial sprawl. A graffiti covered shack next to the green patch will soon be a cafe. The occasional show space, run by Jeffrey Lohn, former member of no-wave legends Theoretical Girls, is just a few blocks from Angell’s own apartment.
At first glance, Theo Angell’s rustic folkisms appear just as at odds with his New York City surroundings as Flushing Farms. Angell’s new record Tenebrae breathes with a slow-paced psych folk hum that would seem completely oblivious to passing sixteen-wheelers and the mechanical whirs of factories. Angell’s patient guitar work, sympathetic croons and otherworldly atmospheric swirls sound as far from urban as is imaginable.