...a nice one, dreamy haunted little avant-music-box songs sung in French by a lady... the sound of new wave chansons performed by a band that only exists in the reflection of a puddle of water on cobblestone streets...although for all this dream-fragility they are also a guitar band, and a rather noisy one at that, with side two being where the songs really start to fragment and dislocate. - Blogstitude

Vocals slur out of the speakers like a foreign nursery rhyme intertwined with music-box melodies. It’s all fuzz and crackle songs. Good stuff! - Michael Flora, Foxy Digitalis

...one of the most weirdly fucked song-based records to come out of New York since the early Tower Recordings sides, with a similarly unfathomable approach to phantom structure, tho here they replace the monolithic electric guitars and PKD-style sleight of hand with fuzz, stumbling F/X, almost carousel-style melodies and a wayward female vocalist who sings nursery rhyme tunes, baroque gothic folk and lux French pop stylings beneath homemade electronics ala Storm Bugs with stylistic nods to a Mo-fronted Velvet Underground singing the songs of Jacques Brel. A beautifully outside release, as singular as the first Red Kites recordings. Recommended. - Volcanic Tongue

BD01 Pigeons Virgin Spectacle

Pigeons and doves are so closely related, they are practically interchangeable in the minds of the people who classify such fowl. But in the eyes of the general public, the dove is a beautiful bird symbolizing freedom and peace while the pigeon is a dirty rat with wings that eats our city’s garbage and craps on our cars. But maybe the pigeon is a crafty bird, content with its own beauty and happy to obscure it to avoid the glare of our ever intrusive public eye. Virgin Spectacle is a distorted, hungover, and elusive statement. And it’s in French. Except one word at the end. Or more, if you are to believe those responsible. Regardless, amongst all the fog and feathers is a collection of comely pop and sonic excursions guaranteed to lodge itself in your waking subconscious. Hell, you might even dream of a few of these songs. The fine people who constitute the band named Pigeons would like you to believe that they have stumbled incidentally upon such charm, like a diamond in the mine. Don’t believe it. Take yourself out of your particular urban situation. Look toward the skies, and see the besmirched bird for what it really is. They have laid out a sonic journey meant to disorient on the surface, but if you follow their flight you’ll find yourself cruising along and singing in a language you may not understand.

Edition of 500
Recorded at Black Dirt Studio
Westtown, NY
Mastered by Carl Saff
Chicago, IL
180g vinyl pressed at RTI
Camarillo, CA
Covers silk screened by VGKids
Ypsilanti, MI

BD02 • BD03 • BD04 • BD05 • BD07