AN EXCERPT FROM FAKEJAZZ.COM

With great screen-printed covers and hand-drawn Sharpie decorations on the
discs, this is a wonderfully personal album and it just might be one of my
favorites of the year.

AN EXCERPT FROM FENSEPOST.COM

The Mystery & Her Crew is a surprisingly powerful compilation of songs for being
housed in a cardboard CD case and recorded on CD-R. It is one of those albums
that makes a music critic grin—a gem amidst countless useless jewel cases,
unimpressive album covers, and unwarranted hype. The Golden Hours prove that the
do-it-yourself community can be much, much more than merely noteworthy.

AN EXCERPT FROM SLIGHTLY CONFUSING TO A STRANGER

The Golden Hours have made a fan out of me after just 2 spins. Had this band
made it on one of those trusted CMJ samplers back in the day [no doubt wedged in
betWeen a slammin' P.O.D. track and some other guttershit flamewagon], I would
certainly have been on the bullet train to search out more. Super-fi and fitting
for a US tour with like-sounded crew the Parenthetical Girls

FROM POPSHEEP.COM

From the infinite depths of the Popsheep comments comes one
of my favourite discoveries of the past few months. The Golden
Hours are people who know for a fact that tape hiss is in itself
an instrument, and a beautiful one at that. They know that songs
recorded in small rooms into tiny microphones allow the listener
to feel like the song is coming through their thin apartment walls,
as though the xylophone and guitar and singing is happening only a
few feet away from where they're sitting. These songs are in the
tradition of Shrimper records, early Mountain Goats, and that
person in high school that had that band and put out all those
awesome tapes that you still covet to this day.


FROM STYLUSMAGAZINE.COM

The Golden Hours
Mystery and Her Crew
[Not Not Fun, 2005]

Seems cassette is the perfect format for sleepy pop, because
we have another winner here from Not Not Fun. Though their
label is known for L.A. noise, the Golden Hours sing syrup-sweet
male/female duets about death and drowning, set to acoustic
guitar and the occasional casio. Pacific Northwest to the core,
the trio exists for rainy days that need cheering and for sunny
days that need deceptive gloom. Eliza’s soft, naïve vocals (no
last names provided, as if this release needed to be more
intimate) satisfy far more than Brian’s, but the few missteps
do not prevent this six-song suite from lulling you into a soft
stupor.


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