Welcome to the world Beach Baby, as they take their first tepid steps into the wide blue yonder from their student bedsit and the security of higher education.
Limousine opens proceedings and suggests a quick ascent to bigger things. Yet that would paint a vulgar picture once the lyrics of risible behaviour are appreciated beyond the pop dynamic of the music. Similarly, Lost Soul suggests something akin to a brutish dirge, but actually suggests otherwise. Like the like-minded Ariel Pink, Beach Baby employ summer shimmer to camouflage their disarming lyrics.
One can’t help but marvel at the self effacing “A little fucked up and a little slow,” observation of the titular track. An understated gem that’s like finding loose change in the gutter. A little of the straining desperation pervades some of the songs and ignites a degree of eyes focused on the pavement reverie, while indicating that the band are some provincial outsiders taking strident steps into the unknown.
Smoke Won’t Get Me High is a frolic of sorts, a clarion call to those who’ve dropped their theatrical mask only to find that comedy has been replaced by tragedy. “Do you like what I do?” they quiz on Hot Weather and one can’t make an assessment that’s overly negative. This suggests a stately edifice may be built for the future. The current single UR bears a degree of emotional power, a riff from an earlier time.
Bug Eyed And Blonde is suitably dreamy and detached. Languid from start to finish it’s a seamless transition through the prism of ‘60s meanderings of a psychedelic brain frazzle. Interesting that Powerbaby should immediately follow, before How Lucky You Are ends it all on a folky note that underscores a sense of blissful abandon.
BY BRONIUS ZUMERIS
