Band Of Horses - Everything All The Time (LP)

Band of Horses’ debut, Everything All The Time, landed on Sub Pop on 21 March 2006 and felt like a small weather event. Produced by Phil Ek, the Seattle studio wizard behind key records by The Shins, Modest Mouse and Fleet Foxes, it arrived with that shimmering Pacific Northwest clarity, yet with a romantic Southern haze lingering over every reverb tail. Ben Bridwell’s high, windblown tenor is the obvious beacon, but what keeps you coming back is the mix of grandeur and scruffy charm, the way the songs lean into open skies without losing the dirt on their boots.

Everyone knows The Funeral. It starts with a chime and a sigh, then lifts into a gallop, guitars braiding and unbraiding as Bridwell stretches a simple melody into something anthemic. It became the band’s calling card for good reason, a fan favourite that has followed them across stages and screen placements ever since. But it’s not a one-song record. The First Song is a cheeky title for an opener that actually plays like a mission statement, wide-lensed and confident. Wicked Gil and Our Swords snap with nervous energy, all tremolo and chiming lines cutting through Ek’s clear-as-water mix. Weed Party throws its arm around you with a grin, loud yet loose, the kind of indie rocker that makes you wish you still had a garage to rattle.

The Great Salt Lake might be the other standout that long-time fans point to. Built on rolling drums and that unhurried guitar glow, it swells patiently, finding a kind of back-porch nobility rather than fireworks. Part One and Monsters walk the quieter path, showing how the band was already comfortable letting negative space do half the work. And then come the hushes that close the record. I Go to the Barn Because I Like The and St. Augustine bring Mat Brooke to the fore, his voice and guitar presence adding a fragile counterweight to Bridwell’s ringing tenor. Knowing that Brooke left the band later in 2006 and went on to form Grand Archives, those last tracks feel doubly precious, like the sound of a band catching itself in the mirror before everything shifts.

Ek’s production is a big part of the album’s personality. The guitars feel close and glassy without ever turning brittle, cymbals fade into the rafters, and the vocals sit just far enough back to feel like they’re rising from the room instead of the mic. It’s a sound that rewards a real listen, which is why Everything All The Time vinyl remains the best way to sink into it. On a decent turntable, The Funeral’s build has more air and weight, The Great Salt Lake stretches out with a low-end tide you miss on compressed streams, and those quiet closing tracks take on a candlelit intimacy. If you’re hunting Band Of Horses vinyl, keep an eye out in your local Melbourne record store, or buy Band Of Horses records online before prices jump again. Of all Band Of Horses albums on vinyl, this debut might be the most complete front-to-back experience.

Context adds to its pull. Mid-2000s indie was full of big ideas about space and scale, and this album found a sweet spot between pastoral yearning and bar-band uplift. It sits nicely next to Sub Pop peers, but there’s a distinct tug toward Southern imagery and sentiment that sets it apart. Critics picked up on that right away, and the groundswell that followed pushed the band onto bigger stages and toward the follow-up in 2007. Even now, when The Funeral pops up in a shop or on radio, you can see heads lift, then nod. That chorus has become a kind of public property, but the album around it still feels personal.

Seventeen-odd years on, Everything All The Time shows an early Band of Horses at full stretch, not a scrappy demo of what they could be but a proper arrival. The songs shine without fuss, the playing is tasteful and a little windswept, and Ek’s touch keeps everything crisp while leaving room for mystery. If you collect vinyl records Australia wide, this is one to file near the front, that glowing spine you reach for when the evening cools and you want the room to breathe.