Albums and Abominations

By Benjamin Huber-Rodriguez     2/4/14 6:00pm

Favorite tracks: "Going Out," "Nightingale," and "Inauguration" Album available for $9.99 on iTunes.

Almost exactly two years ago, a young(er) Benjamin Huber-Rodriguez reviewed his first album for the Thresher. It was the charming debut album Hospitality by the little-known indie pop band out of Brooklyn of the same name. While Hospitality has not taken off in the ways I had expected, its second full-length album Trouble brings all the catchy hooks, witty lyricism and surprising mid-song curveballs of the debut record alongside significantly darker production and songwriting. If Hospitality was the bright, daytime version of New York, Trouble is its nighttime companion - slinking, shadowy, low-key at times and even a bit sexy. When it works, the combination is both infectious and subtly dramatic at the same time.

If there were any doubt that Hospitality has never deviated from its formula for catchy, upbeat pop songs, it is shattered exactly 19 seconds into the opening track, "Nightingale," when singer Amber Pampini is interrupted by the most Black Keys-esque blues rock riff since the last Black Keys album. The song then disappears for a while, with Pampini accompanied only by single bass notes, until the drums roll in and the song explodes once again into an indie pop anthem. The song is a statement of purpose for an album out to prove that it can play the role of Columbia Twee Pop and inventive sonic manipulation at the same time.

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The content of Trouble often describes the same mid-20s anxiety that has become blogger fodder as of late (see HBO's Girls), but Pampini manages to add just enough personal detail to keep the songs interesting. "Inauguration" is an album standout that excellently captures the apathetic melancholia of simple breakups. There is nothing cryptic here, no metaphors to unravel, just the kind stream of conscious writing that comes off as both deeply personal and arrestingly poetic. The bleak background of echoing, scratched guitars and thumping toms captures the feeling of utter aloneness beautifully.  

Where Trouble fails is when the group spirals into monotony. "Last Words," for instance, is an extended, nearly seven-minute synth jam that contains some highly processed guest vocals that break the mood set by Pampini. Still, the scant strummer that nearly ends the album, "Sunship," contains perhaps the most beautiful moment on the album, with the lilting acoustic guitar coming out of the darkness to be greeted by a brilliant french horn solo before drifting off into the horizon for the coda.

Trouble is catchy as hell and reveals some excellent observations. The range of musical influences and styles diversifies the listen, while juxtaposition between playful upbeat tracks and sparse closeness of more halcyon pieces make the record as a whole an interesting experience. The lyrics trudge through the same territory as a dozen other talented indie bands, but as Pampini continues to navigate post-collegiate life while punctuating all her songs with the starkness of each new realization, the sound of her discovery is music to our ears.

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