The Pages, a New York quartet, are a distillation of harmony-laden, psychadelic country-funk, New York garage rock, and their own special brand of epic guitar weirdness, which comes out sounding something like Gram Parsons’ vision of “Cosmic American Music.” They are sometimes compared to classic groups like The Kinks and Neil Young with some Television thrown in.
There’s something about the broad-ranging vision and innate peculiarity of the Pages’ music that recalls both the great, sunlit expanses of the Southwest and the sweaty intensity of a Lower East Side basement. Their lyrical ruminations are given weight and drive by the foundation of careening, propulsive drums, melodically inventive bass playing, and the fiery, idiosyncratic bite of electric guitars. Capping it all off are the pure, yearning harmonies that wind their way through the songs.