A few years on from their top-notch debut, Superorganism is leaning into their weirdness and pop centre more than ever, creating songs that are even more acoustically wild but actually very familiar at the core. Though a little less consistent, and missing that shocking overproduced sound (in a good way) of their debut, this record has a more subdued approach that focuses on singular moments over the whole piece. As a lover of their masterful use of sound clips and unusual samples too, there are a few explosion effects here that come off as more dangerous to those not expecting them than actually enhancing the music, so be warned. After somehow managing to wrangle both CHAI and Pi Ja Ma into one collab (let alone another later in the record), “Teenager” harnesses catchy and the quirk of the album into this utterly addictive hook and weighty funk hook, with the constantly changing vocal tones keeping any one of the more eccentric grit from being too much. “It’s Raining” is that exact classic rap-style we love out of Superorganism, and its sonic palette here makes for a fun exploration of space. They truly tap into their surreal Nickelodeon Channel-like sound on “Solar System,” creating a bouncy and spritely song that feels like a deranged party. The meditation on slumps on “Crushed.zip” captures its emotional malaise perfectly, and surrounds singer Orono in a great swirl of unhinged harmonies, synths and deep bass, all while subtly seeming to also bitcrush the audio to play on that part of the title sonically.
With a cool and crisp pop production, J3M brings in a little bit of chiptune charm on “Moonless.” To this effect, the whole song flows like a pop song layered on an overworld song from an 8bit game, though with a lot more layers than many of the vintage tracks it riffs on. This leaves the track with a subtle charm, constantly letting you drift between its singer-pop core and a simplistic gamey tone. Nevertheless, J3M delivers a stellar vocal performance all across the track, and particularly before that final chorus to help cement the dual feel of the song. While it hits some dazzling highs all over its choruses, there’s a power to the chilly, night time verses that lures us in more.
Metric have taken turns in recent years delving into slower evolutions of their sound and full-fledged experimentation. In their newest record, the Toronto outfit takes all these lessons and meshes energy from across their career into their most finessed acoustics in years. While it certainly takes a while to get there, the sense of release in the drop on “Doomscroller” really kicks the album off in a theatrical and equally dance-inducing way, taking you through grinding guitars, grooving bass, and even a more classic indie outro. After the dark void they present throughout their verses, the soaring feeling of “All Comes Crashing” is invigorating, especially with the punch and neon the guitars bring out in all of its choruses. There’s an immediate punk charge to “What Feels Like Eternity” that calls to earlier Metric writing while layering a lot of their newer aesthetics to make a dense and textured rock banger. The raw attitude, and sheer pop fun of “False Dichotomy” is a fun change of pace too, with Emily Haines letting her voice dance around the blown-out mix and creating a weird sci-fi dance ballad.
With a soft-rock glow and an undeniably warm, loving approach, Francois Klark will have you about to cry on “Cecilia.” The quiet and buried tone to the pianos and beat feel tender, while seeming to honour the love and wonder of the girl Klark is gushing over. It never loses its hook though, as the choruses bloom with a huge scale of euphoria, and more drive than you’d expect. Every harmony is seeming to amplify that warm feeling exponentially, and suggest that there’s no limit to Klark’s love here.
Roaring back out with their particular blend of jazz-fueled dance-punk, Viagra Boys are on a tear with their latest record. Dipping their toes into a digital ether that feels sinister to say the least, this is the band controlling a beastly sound into something fun. The fury out the gate on “Baby Criminal” echoes of a groovy chaos, ripped from a film that would have been made between Gaspar Noé and David Lynch. There’s a bizarre surrealism listening to “Creepy Crawlers” as a mediation on conspiracy theories and anti-vax conspiracies makes for a terrifying dive into how mild disinformation can escalate to deranged hysteria. The wailing kick to “Ain’t No Thief” cuts like a blade, demanding you to churn your whole body to its violent tones and shout like your words are weapons. The twangy chug of “Big Boy” is a fun shift for the group, taking a Beck-like approach and letting a more sass-laden delivery overtake the laidback groove.
