When they were still around, Saloon seemed to lead a double life of sorts. To me, they were quite obviously part of the same fey indie pop movement as bands like Belle and Sebastian and Camera Obscura—hushed vocals, unhurried pacing, sweet melodies. Saloon seemed like the perfect accompaniment to a lazy Saturday afternoon in the park. To everyone else, they were apparently acolytes of Stereolab and Broadcast. To this day, I have not quite been able to reconcile these two seemingly at-odds interpretations of the British quintet’s body of work. This is partially because I haven’t heard a whole lot of Saloon, and most of it is from their debut album, (This Is) What We Call Progress. Though “debut” is perhaps not quite the right term; by the time that album came out Saloon had been making music for three years.

Their earlier work is apparently more overtly bleepy and bloopy, which would better explain the myriad Stereolab references. And I suppose songs like “Le Weekend” bear the vaguest of similarities to Dots and Loops-era Stereolab. But it seems obvious to me that the two bands are attempting to do different things; Stereolab’s brand of farfisa coolness seems a bit too fashionable and hip, whereas (This Is) What We Call Progress feels less overtly cosmopolitan, more pastoral.

For whatever reason, Saloon never managed to perfect their particular formula; they split up after two albums. But at some point I aim to track down their debut CD; ’tis the season for breezy walks in the park and bicycling through quiet tree-lined city streets.