Club Kuru is a recurring name here at TMR. We’ve been on the tail of these psychedelic indie-rockers since they released ‘Seesaw’ five years ago, and their sound and make-up has certainly undergone an evolution since those early days. From the solo, electronic-heavy project of Laurie Erskine to a five-piece indie band to the psych-pop duo we have today, Club Kuru has always been a project of exploration. This time around we have a Dante’s Inferno-style concept in ‘Cherry Bloom’. As Erskine explains: "I was imagining a man in purgatory; he can see the events in the mortal world unfold, but can no longer effect them. His wife has a new man - a taller and more handsome version of himself. He sees his lost love living the life they’d always dreamed of.  Now he is frozen in time; he lies deep beneath the soil, watching. Cherry blossom from a beautiful Japanese, tree falls over him." The imagery of ‘Cherry Bloom’ aligns this otherworldly gaze with television and magazines, perhaps extending this life-and-death separation with one of reality and the media; our greatest disconnection. The song itself is an artful psych performance, with dramatic pauses, in-time percussive drops and noodling guitar phrases. The piano breaks also bring to mind an musician, sat at a piano, ruminating on life thus far, a glass of whiskey resting on the hardwood, cigarette hanging out the corner of their mouth. As with the rich, layered instrumentation, the context of ‘Cherry Bloom’ is multi-faceted and open wide to interpretation. That’s always been the thing about Club Kuru’s music - despite its various formations, the songwriting is rooted in visceral imagination; one that draws the listener in, creating a vision of another life in one’s mind. - Hannah Thacker