MooseCreek Park – Hope This Clears Things Up | Album Review

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Thumbs Up Records

Nothing makes me feel older than reflecting on the fact that the youth of today will likely never experience summers standing in the blistering heat at Warped Tour, inhaling clouds of dust while waiting to catch your favorite band rip a 15-minute set sandwiched between acts like Motionless in White and Reel Big Fish. For me, those months spent between semesters will forever be soundtracked by the fast-paced, angry pop-punk that took over the 2010s. That point in time is exactly where I’m taken to when listening to MooseCreek Park’s debut LP Hope This Clears Things Up.

Much like those Warped Tour acts of old, the Long Island-based emo band dons angst, resentment, nostalgic yearning, and self-loathing like nobody’s business. This release is a dream for those pop-punk kids turned emo as MooseCreek Park has mastered the composition of energetic yet introspective tracks. Most notably, this is showcased on "Pieces," one of the album’s three singles, and a song that had me enthralled on first listen. This track finds MooseCreek Park’s songwriting at its most polished—matching twinkly guitar riffs and a punchy chorus with relentlessly honest vocals that aren’t afraid to hit every beat of self-doubt.

These wildly catchy choruses are found on nearly every track throughout the release making for hardly any downtime. The following song, “Soggy Bacon,” continues this trend with a breakdown-like intro that transitions seamlessly into a wonderfully crafted verse. The lyrics on this track start to build out the album's themes, giving the listener an idea of where everything is heading. After the defeated lyrics found on “Pieces,” we’re hit with candid lines like, “Hiding that I’m jealous, that I’m angry, that I’m insecure. I’ll try for you.”

Before the instrumental break of “183 Days,” we’re given my personal favorite off the release, “What’s for Dinner,” which caps off the first half of the LP. It’s a more mellowed-out track, led steadily by a noodly guitar riff paired with drums that fuel the track just enough without spilling over. The song culminates in a breakdown towards the end, as vocalist/guitarist Vinny Cederna shouts, “Why can’t I stand your voice? Seasons change, but natures don’t.”

The back half of the album kicks off with “Ok Dylan,” another single whose fast-paced nature calls for finger-pointing and stage dives. The track even goes as far as to incorporate nautically themed gang vocals before dissolving into a slower-paced bridge. It’s then in “Drowning” where themes tie back to “Soggy Bacon” with the line, “You said you’re not willing to make changes for me.” For Cederna, the LP seems to be as much about self-reflection and processing emotions as it is a bridge-burning letter to those who've wronged him.

The second half of the album plays on similar beats, save for the significant shift in tone on track 10, “A Letter to Myself.” Trudged along by solemn chords, this song finds MooseCreek Park at their lowest, though the band knows better than to end their debut on a soft note; “Matchbox” caps off HTCTU with a twinkly-as-hell, nostalgia-filled track. The band uses the finality of this song to touch on the regretful tone that is sprinkled throughout the release, singing, “Holding onto last July, memories are all I’ve got.” And would it really be a modern emo release if there weren’t some form of screaming on the LP? MooseCreek Park covers all their bases with this closer, wrapping the album by pouring out all their remaining energy with shouted vocals over some insane tapping riffage.

After hearing the three singles that MCP put out in the lead-up to this album, I knew they were cooking up something special. They’ve managed to capture both the essence of angsty, finger-pointy pop-punk of the 2010s while maintaining the 5th wave emo noodles. Releasing the album via Thumbs Up Records, which proclaims itself as “Home of the Riff Mafia,” MCP is surrounded by good company. If there were an XXL Freshman Class of emo, MooseCreek Park would undoubtedly make the cut. 

Brandon Cortez is a writer/musician residing in El Paso, Texas, with his girlfriend and two cats. When not playing in shitty local emo bands, you can find him grinding Tears of the Kingdom on his second cup of cold brew. Find him on Twitter @numetalrev.

Pool Kids – Pool Kids // POOL | Split Review

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Pool Kids // POOL Split Cover Art

Skeletal Lightning

On the heels of the dizzying success of their 2022 self-titled release, Pool Kids’ newest project is a collaboration with…themselves. The Pool Kids // POOL split sees the Floridians playing off their own extremes, with three decidedly hardcore tracks under the alter ego “POOL,” which serve as foil to side one’s signature twinkly emo sounds. Has this ever been done before? Has a band issued a split with a different iteration of themselves as the second band? Amidst a music industry fraught with stale money grabs, THIS is the kind of fun, fresh thing we need here in the dismal, dreary Year of our Lord 2023. 

The EP starts with the only truly new Pool Kids track, “No Stranger.” Maybe I just have Cocteau Twins on the brain, but the singing here seems like it’s shrouded just a layer or two more than it has been in the band’s past work, delivered in a dreamy haze by vocalist Christine Goodwyne. The song’s urgency builds to a shoegazey bridge, brought back down to earth by the final bass and guitar notes ping-ponging gently off each other. What captured my heart in this song is the pop urgency of the melodies—it’s a subtle but compelling departure from the meandering American-Football-esque constructions of their previous album. However, the sounds of emo and pop-punk roots persist in the layered instruments and Goodwyne’s lyrical phrasing. Is this my new favorite Pool Kids song? Feels crazy to say, but maybe!

The second track is an alternate, slowed-down version of “Talk Too Much,” one of Pool Kids’ 2022 bangers. This reimagined version capitalizes on deliberate softness, paring back the original’s chugging guitars and turning down the dial on the vocals. It’s not necessarily quiet, though; atmospheric keys wrap Goodwyne’s voice in droning layers. The drums in the last portion of the song take me straight to Death Cab For Cutie’s “Grapevine Fires,” perhaps suggesting a throughline of indie pop that tethers some of the band’s songwriting to other disparate influences.

The twinkly guitars make a brief comeback in the third track, a pseudo-acoustic version of the 2022 album single “Arm’s Length.” Andy Anaya’s electric guitar pops in with riffs on the first couple of verses, reminding us who we’re listening to (Pool Kids), and then cedes to a melee of acoustic guitars, sparse drum machines, and even an accordion (I think??!?!). The restrained quality of Goodwyne’s voice gives the song’s lyrics a new dimension: the minimum wage complaint of verse two sounds more despairing than frustrated, for instance. And, of course, the relatable first verse—

I'm in a group chat
With twenty-one goddamn people
I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not
My phone crashes thirty-seven times a day

Where these lyrics once came across as tongue-in-cheek, it’s astonishing how goddamn lonely they suddenly sound when cast in a soft, twilight glow at this new tempo. It’s a gently haunting end to the Pool Kids side of the split.

Then, the twinkles fade, and the mosh pit opens. Yes, it’s a little bit of whiplash, but what did you want, the same old predictable EP that’s half singles you’ve already heard? Get off your ass and RAGE! (This pep talk is as much for myself as it is for the reader, as I am old and somewhat sleepy.)

Without warning, the first POOL track begins with crashing hardcore guitars that lead into a beautifully thrash-worthy breakdown, complete with brutal shrieks and pounding double bass drums–the whole nine yards. At only a minute and 19 seconds, “Cleansing” is a brief and brutal whirlwind, and the funny thing is that it absolutely makes sense in the context of Pool Kids’ technical precision. Guitars? Check. Drums? Check. See, not so different from a Pool Kids song!

For a bit of a history lesson, the mission statement for POOL was first laid out in an emojipasta April Fools tweet back in 2019:

The band put a corresponding two-song single on Bandcamp and even a batch of 7” flexi discs, with the proceeds going to marine research on red tide. Hilariously, Paramore’s Hayley Williams happened to shout out Pool Kids—a career-boosting milestone—that same day, meaning many new fans’ confusing first encounter with Pool Kids was actually the April Fools’ tweet. The band cleared the air the next day with a Twitter thread and promised more POOL shenanigans in the future since it was clearly such a hit.

Making good on their April 1 promise to wreak annihilation, the fiery “Inside A Wall” opens with a breakneck tempo, only to slow down to a heavy chug halfway through. Again, POOL keep it short, with the song clocking in at a slim 1:28. It’s absolutely insane how deftly these guys are picking up an entirely different genre for a couple of songs. 

The final track, “Death Sentence,” feels like the guttural icing on the cake of POOL’s side of the split. Multiple tempo changes wrangle the song into three acts, a quick, yet face-melting saga. Fuck, this would be fun live, wouldn’t it?

When Pool Kids’ self-titled album knocked it out of the park last year, their meteoric success had a lot of people—including the band themselves—curious about what was next. How would they manage to keep such a trademark twinkly emo sound fresh? Philosophically, the answer lies within this split. Chop up the formula: subtly, gracefully, wildly, imaginatively.

In a recent interview, guitarist Andy Anaya beamed confidence at what lay in store in the near future: “We’re just really excited about what’s coming up for us.” The conversation progressed to what the next step looks like: “‘Now, we just want to create something that endures,’ says Andy, with Christine adding, ‘I guess we’re shooting for longevity.’”

I can’t see into the future, so I can’t speak to Pool Kids’ longevity yet. But if we’re talking industry impact, if we’re talking ingenuity, if we’re talking icon behavior (three things that lend themselves to longevity), this split reaffirms that Pool Kids are knocking it out of the park.

Katie Wojciechowski is a music writer and karaoke superstar in Austin, Texas. She is from there, but between 2010 and now, also lived in Lubbock, TX, Portland, OR, and a camper. Her life is a movie in which her bearded dragon Pancake is the star. You can check out her Substack here. She’s writing a book about growing up alongside her favorite band, Paramore.

Origami Angel – The Brightest Days | Mixtape Review

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Counter Intuitive Records

There is something borderline poetic about listening to “The Brightest Days,” the title track of Origami Angel’s new mixtape, while you’re looking at a sky full of haze due to sweeping wildfires and simultaneously doom scrolling on the hellscape that is Twitter dot com. I, too, am asking where my sunny feeling is now that the sense of the world ending is so strong that it feels like I’m wearing concrete shoes and was just thrown into the bay. The soft ukulele and group vocals singing this lovely little melody quickly turn into a rug pulled out from beneath your feet as Pat Doherty’s drums come in like a punch to the face and the crunchy guitars take the forefront of the song. The backing vocals throughout this entire mixtape, especially this first song, are reminiscent of The Beach Boys. These swooning, summery vocals paired with the gritty guitar, the halftime breakdown at the end of this 2:27 track (a perfect amount of time, I am always saying that songs should be 30 seconds shorter), and the melodic guitar riff make for an absolute banger introduction to this mixtape that’s full of twists and turns. Throughout this release, you never know what you’ll get with the next track, and I think that was exactly what Origami Angel were betting on. The outro slips into the familiar ukulele, and the ghost of the guitar feedback leads you into the next song, creating a wonderful little bookend of sound that leaves the listener still reeling just a bit and excited to figure out what’s coming next.

Did I mention Beach Boys backing vocals? Yeah, welcome to “Thank You, New Jersey,” the first single from The Brightest Days and a song I take very personally as a New Jersey native. I’ll take a note from the Immortal Bard and say that brevity is the soul of wit, considering most of the community has already listened. It's here where the band really establishes the theme of surfy vocals, this time paired with crunchy, layered guitars... and that little waltzy bridge doesn’t hurt either. As a lead single, this was a fun and clever introduction to this mixtape that had me stoked to see what was coming next – Pat Doherty absolutely crushing the first 45 seconds of this song was truly what sucked me in here, not that the lyrical content wasn’t just absolutely up my alley. If there’s one thing New Jerseyans love more than people leaving them the hell alone, it’s also being at the center of attention. We are truly an onion of a people: full of layers. These D.C. natives genuinely seem to understand us. Another track clocking in under 2:40, Origami Angel is receiving a large ‘Your welcome’ from me on behalf of the Garden State.

Do I imagine “Picture Frame” as a song playing during the opening scene of some coming-of-age movie or TV show? Yeah, and I promise that’s a compliment. That guitar riff that starts off the song is head-bobbing, catchy, and a LITTLE Blink-182 if you squint. It leads directly into a high-energy chorus that I know will have people moving and grooving at the next Gami show, hopefully becoming a new staple of their setlist. The quick vocal lines in the next verse are a great addition to the song as the band continues to switch things up, never letting a moment go stale. Not only do no two songs sound the same, no two parts of a song sound too similar. The band never uses one idea enough times for it to get monotonous or boring. Once they have your attention, they don’t let it go.

As a Trekkie, “Kobayashi Maru (My Very Own)” was on my radar the moment I read the title. To give some context for those unaware, the Kobayashi Maru is a training exercise in the Starfleet Academy – a test to show recruits and trainees that sometimes you simply cannot win despite your best efforts, greatest strengths, and high intellects. I love the symbolism used here, not just on a nerd level, but it is an excellent metaphor for that consistent feeling of failure and the resignation that sometimes you just won’t be able to win. I’m absolutely digging the ska-adjacent guitar strokes in the second verse; this song is probably giving the most Motion City Soundtrack energy out of all of them for me. The instrumental chunk that takes up the last 40 seconds of the song is stank-face-worthy (affectionate) and has the song ending with more energy than it even began with, which makes it a perfect transition into the next track.

“Second Best Friend” is the second-longest song on the mixtape, but it sure doesn’t feel that way. Origami Angel has a way of bringing out some of the most ear-pleasing guitar riffs right at the start of a song and still managing to build and grow throughout. The hard-hitting drums and guitar lick quickly give way to dreamy vocals, soft, reverberating backup vocals, and acoustic guitars for just a moment–long enough that when the drums come back, it almost takes you off guard. They’re doing a great job at switching up dynamics all throughout this mixtape while still sounding definitively Origami Angel. I adore the synth in this song and how Ryland managed to create a great balance between guitar riffs and keys here, giving both the chance to round out the track without being overwhelming. This might be my favorite song of the mixtape given the dynamics – the lyrics, the stops and starts, and the varying instruments being brought to the forefront throughout the song. It sounds like Drew Portalatin really spread his engineering and production wings on this one, and it paid off. The entire mixtape is excellently produced, but this song in particular solidified that it was something special for me.

I love a transitional song, precisely what the less than a minute-and-a-half, ukulele-driven “Looking Out” provides. It allows the audience to catch their breath after listening to five high-energy back-to-back bangers before moving along. It’s a sweet little song too, with kind lyrics and ocean waves in the background. It throws you a little off your guard so that when the guitar feedback starts in the next song and that drum-heavy, gritty guitar intro to “My PG County Summer” comes in, you are wide awake, alert, and ready.

The second single, “My PG County Summer,” has received its love and praise from the public already, but I would be remiss not to mention it here given its relevance and the fact that it’s. The synth in this song, combined with the backing vocals that hit at that 1:43 mark, is what really drives it, in my opinion. I’ve been singing the praises of the backing vocals, and I shall sing them louder now. Origami Angel knows how to build a song, bring it to its height, and end it so that no drop of energy is wasted.

This all ends with the 4:22 “Few and Far Between,” which ties right back into the title track, giving the mixtape a rounded, cyclical feeling so that you barely know where it all ends and where it begins. Every downstroke of the guitar is purposeful, and the lyrics get brought to the forefront of this one which is perfect given this outro essentially sums up the mixtape as a whole.

And I still say that I love it here, behind clenched teeth and constant fear
Cause one day it will all disappear

This lyric struck me as something so true and universal – I feel it every single day, as I’m sure most, if not everyone, also feels. It’s an absolute shame to live in a world that is so imperfect and also so temporary. You want to stop and appreciate and love, and sometimes it is SO easy to do. Other days, it feels near impossible, but you make yourself love it anyway because, let’s be real, who would truly be surprised if tomorrow we found out it was going to be the last day we all had here? Not me, that’s for sure.

Origami Angel is calling The Brightest Days a mixtape rather than an EP or an album. There’s an incredibly neat balance between experimental and familiar, which is all wrapped up with a high energy, banging-guitar-riffing, climate crisis, and anxiety-having bow. Every song is different; I love the varied guitar tones and how quickly they switch from gritty and crunchy to bright and round. Even more impressively, Origami Angel have managed to create eight stellar songs that feel as though there’s no emptiness, no SPACE where attention or momentum could be lost. The soft parts of the songs have no weakness; the large walls of sound don’t seem overwhelming, but full and warm. It feels like everything is very purposely placed, nothing haphazard or rushed. And as the mixtape fades out with that same ukulele, the same lyrics, and that comforting sound of ocean waves – It just feels natural to let the whole thing repeat

August Greenberg (they/them) is a music lover from Philadelphia, PA, who has written for Spinning Thoughts and had a journey within the music scene by fronting the indie band Riverby. They love good music and never wanna shut up about it.

PONY – Velveteen | Album Review

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Take This To Heart Records

There are some experiences of the “CD Era” that just haven’t been replicated by the vinyl boom. Like the feeling of digging through a $1 CD bin at a record or thrift store and discovering the coolest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. Sure, there are $1 vinyl bins too, but it’s pretty rare you’ll find an alternative gem like Frente’s Marvin The Album or Radish’s Restraining Bolt amongst the Pat Boone and Mitch Miller. Maybe that was how you discovered Come On Feel The Lemonheads, and you hearing “Into Your Arms” immediately reminded you of your longtime crush. Maybe you make them a mix CD and use it as the opening track, followed by “Hey Jealousy” and “One Headlight.” Maybe I’m revealing too much about myself. It’s that sense of being in on some musical secret you want to share with someone special, the feeling of complete effervescence, and the feeling of falling in love for the very first time. That’s what it’s like listening to Velveteen, the sophomore album by Canadian rock trio PONY.

I’ve been following the Toronto band since their 2017 EP Do You, a succinct selection of emotional alt-rock made instantly personable by singer-songwriter Sam Bielanski. After a smattering of singles, including a cover of Robbie Hart’s proto-fourth-wave classic “Somebody Kill Me Please,” the band’s debut album TV Baby landed in 2021. This release was a clear step up, a more fully realized project anchored by catchy singles like “Chokecherry” and “Couch.” The album also cemented PONY’s core lineup of Bielanski and now-partner Matty Morand, who plays bass for the group and has previous credits with Self Defense Family and Lychi. While I enjoyed TV Baby enough, I was patiently anticipating a follow-up that would pack even more of a sticky-sweet punch. Velveteen is far more than I could have asked for, absolutely skyrocketing the band to guitar-pop perfection.

I think of albums like Bark Your Head Off, Dog by Hop Along, or Mood Ring by Kississippi in the same context as Velveteen. All three are standout voices of emo and indie rock that built off the formula from their previous album and found the uppermost echelon it could reach. This isn’t to say that I think Frances Quinlan, Zoe Allaire Reynolds, or Sam Bielanski “sold out” or purposefully delivered a more accessible project, but there’s a notable increase of energy and yearning on all three of these albums that eclipses their predecessors. On Velveteen, that energy is introduced without any reservations on album opener “Très Jolie,” its guitar intro is unavoidably attention-grabbing before Bielanski begins the first verse. “Do you ever picture us together? Standing beneath the glitter in the sky.” Then, the beautifully simple chorus: “I wanna kiss you. I wanna make you mine. I wanna lie to you and say that I am fine.” It’s a statement of intent not open to interpretation, the first of ten top-notch pop-rockers.

Those blissful and sugary hooks don’t let up anytime soon. “Peach” follows suit with a Mandy Moore-meets-Green Day attitude. “Picturing the salt of the beach, ‘cause I don’t want to drown in the taste of this peach.” My personal favorite on the album is “Sick,” a song that should be the biggest hit of the Summer in every major market. It’s another sensational power pop anthem that delivers guitar power and bubblegum pop equally. The electronic tinges in the production remind me of recent releases from Crushed and Hatchie, both artists who have been riding the line of ‘90s-influenced alt and pop perfectly. If a remake of 10 Things I Hate About You is in the works, this song should be a shoo-in for the credits, with PONY playing Letters To Cleo.

In Velveteen’s 35 minutes, not one of the ten songs fails to get stuck in your head for at least a little while. Like the bright landscape of “Sucker Punch” or the dreamy fuzz of “Haunted House.” If I had unearthed this record from a shop’s clearance bin, “Who’s Calling” would have been the centerpiece for my heartfelt mix CD roster; a song that channels the desire of calling your love interest but being too scared to say something. With lyrics like “Are you home all alone thinking about me? Wondering why the phone keeps ringing?” and “Can you tell that it’s me by the way that I breathe?” So far, it’s now 2023’s second great Canadian indie rock song that I’ve reviewed about reminiscing on phone calls after “Telephone” by Andy Shauf.

It’s almost overwhelming how great every track here is, making it extremely difficult to say anything other than “a perfect pop song” about each of them. When the second side of an album is just as strong as the first, filled with sharp cuts like “Did It Again” and “Sunny Rose,” it’s simply a testament to Bielanski and Morand’s compositional chops. Morand leads a project of his own called Pretty Matty, whose 2019 self-titled album (and recently released Heavenly Sweetheart) could fit right in rotation with Velveteen. It’s clear that their shared musical loves contribute to their strong personal chemistry.

“French Class” is the one notable moment of deviation, but it doesn’t feel out of place at all. The mostly electronic-led track is a longing ballad, describing someone who “will never be mine, my heart breaks with every breath they take.” The music video is a composite of various lo-fi footage, enhancing the affection of its narrator from afar.

I still purchase physical media whenever I can, but there’s one crucial element of music streaming that echoes CD collecting in a big way. Everyone who’s had a car with a CD player has experienced leaving the same disc inside of it for days, maybe even weeks, without changing it. Letting it go from the last track of an album right back to the first, an endless loop of excitement and obsession as you drive around. Thankfully, most digital streaming platforms have an “album repeat” button that has the same effect, and Velveteen is the poster child for the feature. From the final moments of “Haircut,” it seems required to start the whole album over and listen again. Considering you could fit two full runs of the LP on one CD if you wanted to, and with how addictive every song is, it makes cycling through Velveteen multiple times a no-brainer.

PONY has consistently released difficult-to-deny pop bangers since their inception, but it’s with Velveteen that they reached a monolithic height in the form of a second album. It’s impossible to listen to this thing without having a smile on my face every time, embarrassingly bobbing my head and sliding across my worksite floor throughout the entire runtime. For anyone as in love with ‘90s alternative as I am, you absolutely cannot miss this one. It’s appropriately nostalgic while still undeniably current, wearing its influences on its sleeve while not being fully reliant on them. Velveteen is an album destined to begin again, poised for North American superstardom, and a perfect soundtrack for heart eyes and butterfly stomachs.

Logan Archer Mounts once almost got kicked out of Warped Tour for doing the Disturbed scream during a band’s acoustic set. He currently lives in Rolling Meadows, IL, but tells everyone he lives in Palatine.

Beach Fossils – Bunny | Album Double Review

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Bayonet Records

Sometimes a writer wants to review an album. Sometimes two writers want to review an album. Here at Swim Into The Sound, we’re innovators and trailblazers. That’s why we invented The Double Review, where two people share their thoughts on the same album. It’s two reviews for the price of one. Will the writers agree? Will they conflict? Will it devolve into a bloody brawl? Read on to find out.

Elizabeth’s Review

Discovering Beach Fossils as a teenager was one of the great fortunes of my young life. They were (and continue to be) one of those bands that felt like a wish come true, making songs that seemed to be the very manifestation of yearning, numinous adolescent feelings coalesced into sonic form. Their music was too composed and polished to be surf rock, too mellow to be post-punk, and the label “dream pop” felt too reductive. Beach Fossils was a band that felt fresh and exciting, but was never exhausting to listen to. In high school I told a friend that if I had to attach a song as the soundtrack to this period of my life, it would be “Daydream,” off their debut record.

Five years since their last release, I am in a new era of life, but it seems like Beach Fossils haven’t changed at all. In their new album, Bunny, they stay true to their atmospheric roots with bright, dreamy melodies and lyrics that gush with longing. The sunshine instrumentation of the band shows little variance from their previous work, spangled with bright guitar lines and cocooned in their familiar resonance. There are even a few instances of the band exploring entirely new sounds, like “Run To The Moon,” which throws a rare pedal steel-sounding tone into the warm mix of sounds. 

Hesitant experimentation aside, Beach Fossils delivers a serviceable addition to their repertoire. Warmly psychedelic atmospheres were dappled across almost every song. “Dare Me” recalls the dreamy textures of their earlier releases, laced with distortion out of a shoegaze track that would have sounded perfectly at home on their 2011 EP What a Pleasure. “Tough Love” is another highlight, with a faster tempo that carries jangly, intricate guitars and the most beautiful vocals on the album.

The record swells with delicately composed songs that play like lemonade, sweetness with a sour undertone. Some of the lyrics feel a bit juvenile for a band so established; back in the day, the Beach Fossils angst used to be relatable; now, it just makes me feel old. (See, for example, “Welcome to California / fucked up when we were younger” and “Out on tour just finished this pack of cigarettes / and I don’t even smoke”). The same goes for songs about staying up all night making bad decisions. The ethos of the record feels dangerously close to mistaking cynicism with wisdom, like wearing sunglasses while watching a building burn.

Further on in the record, a few notes of humility, perhaps even maturity, emerge. Songs like “Anything is Anything” paint a portrait of a person engulfed in ennui, grasping for meaning amidst diminishing pleasure from parties, drugs, and girls. One song later on “Dare Me,” lead vocalist Dustin Payseur sings, “Sometimes all you’ve got is your friends / sometimes you can’t even count on them.” Is this maturity, or is it disillusionment? 

On the whole, Bunny glimmers with the familiar; the guitars twinkle, the melodies flow, the resonance remains the same. New listeners will surely be enthralled, while longtime fans will probably be satisfied. Yet something feels amiss at the heart of this production. Since the last Beach Fossils record, I’ve grown up. Why haven’t they?

Elizabeth is a neuroscience researcher in Chicago. She writes about many things—art, the internet, apocalyptic thought, genetically modified mice—and makes electronic music in her spare time. She is from Northern Nevada.

Mikey’s Review

My first two listens of Beach Fossils’ laid-back indie pop comeback record Bunny were exactly as intended– the first while frantically pecking at a keyboard writing up my final exams for my English degree, and the second at three o’clock in the morning, drunk as hell with the windows down in my roommate’s car. It struck me in those moments as a unique masterpiece in the realm of modern dream pop, hitting on all the jittery post-punk notes of the band’s Somersault sound while finding plenty of time to slow down and introduce us to Dustin Payseur’s inner Hope Sandoval. Sure, it ran a bit long, but I was drunk as hell, and the cool night breeze was rushing through my hair– I couldn’t have cared less. 

Single “Dare Me” boasts beautifully arranged guitar melodies and a traditionally danceable groove that evokes the band’s biggest hits (think “May 1st”), and album highlight “Anything is Anything” vividly recalls the rapturous atmosphere of The Smiths as its steady rock beat holds down dreamy, washed-out guitars. Payseur’s vocals are, for the large part, filled with the ennui listeners have come to know and love; delivered in a complete monotone, he clings to safe and functional melodies while the guitars and bass carry the weight of the harmony. Though he fails to enunciate any word that isn’t “cigarette,” Payseur conveys his tales of late city nights and drug-fueled romance serviceably. Fans will enjoy the earnest but sophomoric verse when they pull the lyric sheet out of their brand-spankin’-new vinyl sleeve (being oh so careful not to bend the edges!), but the freshmen on campus will pick up the vibes despite the mumbling. There’s no better balance to strike in the eyes of a 21-year-old drunken transsexual– I even jotted a reminder in my phone to tell the world that “this album fucking rules, and no one is allowed to say otherwise!!!!!!!”

However:

Upon further listening, the record’s actual sound began to grate on me more and more. The guitars, at times perfectly dialed in to chime-like yet driving light overdrive (“Don’t Fade Away”), hit as either too grating (the R.E.M.-inflected “Tough Love”) or too weak to carry the anthemic vibe (“Anything is Anything,” a song that would sound exactly like “How Soon Is Now?” if it just had more oomph to it). The drums are limp and lacking texture across the record, as the producer opted for a very safe corporate-indie sound that neither detracts from nor enhances the playing. The bass guitar burbles as any record indebted to ‘80s college rock should, but it feels cold and callous– whereas 2017 Beach Fossils filled their recordings with amateurish warmth and thickness, this effort feels overly clinical. The half-hour-and-change runtime feels like forever, and no new or different sounds come and go– the only thing that changes is the songwriting. Like driving down a suburban street, the record is maddening in this respect– though each song contains a unique interior, they’re all covered in the same coat of white paint.

For a band that has emphasized its sonic and aesthetic minimalism for some time, trimming the remaining fat feels unnecessary and uncanny– like looking into the face of a robot desperately trying to emulate a hipster, buying a pack of American Spirits to impress the woman behind him in line at Rite-Aid. 

THE COFFEE CORNER

Though I no longer live with my (ex-) roommate Nick, a Phish fanatic who told me he was playing Chivalry II “and [getting very] angry” in a Type O Negative t-shirt at the time of our phone call this week, he wanted to let readers know that the new Beach Fossils sounds like “Brian Eno for soccer moms.”

Mikey Montoni is a nonfiction writing student at the University of Pittsburgh, originally hailing from New York. When she's not writing, she's bruising herself attempting skateboard tricks, playing with her punk rock band, digging through bookstores for '70s pulp sci-fi paperbacks, and wandering Pittsburgh in search of good coffee.