Recorded over a weekend and released on Steak and Cake Records in December of 2012, Shredder A Side proved to be an outlandishly fun record to listen to, even as it ventured into moodier territory over its unfortunately brief fifteen minute run time. I was impressed by Preston’s ability to craft complete songs with an uncommon amount of polish. A huge amount of credit should also be given to label founder Brandon Schlia’s production, whose electronic overdubs provided the album with a level of quality usually reserved for higher profile releases. I knew immediately that I would need to go full Galactus and devour the entirety of Preston’s available work, and after a relatively short visit to the Pleistocene blog I came away satisfied but wanting more.
At last, here is Shredder B Side. As with A Side, there is a strong personal arc to these recordings, indicating that Preston is either a world-class storyteller or completely unafraid of sharing parts of herself other musicians might shy away from. That’s not to say B Side is a humdrum confessional, and despite the personal nature of the music, I can’t say I know very much about Preston at all. There is a reflective quality to the lyrics, but zero navel-gazing. It’s all left vague enough to allow you to see parts of yourself in her songs.
Where A Side was endearingly lo-fi, and itself a departure from the raw home recordings released to the Pleistocene blog, B Side emphasizes sheer musical ability led by Preston’s synth and own voice, here sounding clearer than ever. It’s all the better for it, and the end result is a tight four song package, each a unique and worthwhile creative endeavor that must have been as satisfying to make as it was to listen to.
On standout track "Debbie," we find Preston offering an optimistic take on 20-something nihilism, singing “I might be nothing but nothing can negate me, I am a nobody but nobody can break me.” It’s hard not to applaud that kind of thinking without immediately wondering what combination of circumstances led her to make such a declaration, but then the drums kick in and you’re swept out of your contemplative state. Preston herself claims to be obsessed with her childhood, and when she sings about being “eight years old and ready to live through the nineties” you start to understand what she means. Those words evoke a charming sense of familiarity, and she deftly navigates the choppy waters between nostalgic and self-obsessed.
"The Band" features a certain archaeological sensibility, with Preston mining the veins of her past experiences to create a catchy, upbeat tune. “How come I miss the things I hate? Where have they gone,” she asks the listener, but we’re too busy bobbing our heads to offer a practical answer. When she confesses to having “broken something broken from the start” you almost feel bad about feeling so good.
Like Preston’s past releases, the most striking part of B Side is its deep emotional core. It’s rare to find such a refined talent willing to share so much of herself through her music, and rarer still that it can sound this good. Taken as a whole, Shredder is a triumph, and should properly cement Preston as an important part of the local musical fabric.
Still, one wonders about the name Pleistocene. It is hard to discern a pronounced love of megafauna or repeated glaciations by surveying the content of the music itself, and there is generally very little evidence to suggest Katie Preston is a saber-toothed cat. Where we at last find a connection is in realizing the Pleistocene is the geochronological point marked by the emergence of humans as we recognize them in their present state. It is fitting, then, that the whole of Preston’s catalog is thick with emotion and personal insight, something undeniably human.
She writes on her blog: “My songs are an extension of me, which again may be average and embarrassing, but it’s all there.” She’s right, it’s all there, but average and embarrassing couldn't be further from the truth.
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