Some of Chicago’s most famous features are the city’s stunning array of engineered beaches that stretch along 28 miles of pristine parkland on the shores of Lake Michigan. In a city also known for it’s brutally cold winters and relentless winds the very existence of world-class beaches feels like an anomaly, but one that makes complete sense as a source of necessary summertime relief for the city’s sun-starved inhabitants after enduring the long, cold winters. The juxtaposition of dreamy, summertime revelry and steely determination borne from exposure to external elements is also present on Cold Beaches’ Drifter, an album that wears its influences on its sleeve and feels like a deeply personal product of a specific time and place.
Drifter is the culmination of five years’ worth of demos, singles, and EPs by Cold Beaches’ mastermind, Sophia Nadia, and dishes out a buffet of contemporary indie rock styles that serve as a platform for her unique lyrical perspective. There are plenty of musical touchpoints that Drifter references throughout the album’s runtime, ranging from the brash garage rock most often associated with Ty Segall’s angular output, to sun-dappled and sepia tinted psychedelia lifted from west coast bands like Sugar Candy Mountain. Nadia’s vocal delivery and cadence frequently recall that of Angel Olsen, while the presence of signature chiming guitar tones feels directly lifted from a more laid back, beachbum-esque source. While not always wholly original, the playing is technically astute and the production is top-notch, which lends the whole album a kind of comfortable familiarity that’s as easy to slip on as a favorite pair of Sharpie customized Chuck Taylor’s. The result is personal expression constructed from varied, existing styles like a curated outfit pieced together from an afternoon spent mining the racks of big city thrift shops, still unique enough to stand out, but not so extreme as to cause a fuss.
The first half of Drifter is tough as nails with Nadia adopting the defiant, independent power stance of a strong female lead in opposition to the surface-level objectification of women and juvenile behavior in the male-dominated music scene. With teeth set in determination, Nadia calls out band boys with stinging barbs wrapped in sunny hooks like a black umbrella stuck in the hot July sand at North Avenue Beach. Don’t mistake the vibe for sad or even angry, there’s an electric surge of energy throughout that emphasizes Nadia’s experiences and frames them up as fuel for her musical output that allows her to tackle bigger issues and personal feelings with a wink-and-nod without being too cavalier.
“Band Boy (Redux)” might be the strongest track on the album, as an exasperated Nadia levies a treatise against masculine entitlement to female affections over a driving beat and melodic guitars. “Why can’t I just like your band? What will it take for you boys to understand? All I’m living for is rock n roll, anything else you want, just leave me alone” is a 21st century thesis on the dire need for equality and respect that is absolutely critical in today’s social climate, but especially the music scene.
2/3 of the way through Drifter the tone abruptly shifts. A light piano riff blends seamlessly into a voicemail recording expressing wistful desires to “kick it” on “I Miss You So So Much, I Really Do” but the tone suggests a lack of true emotional connection to the recipient. From here on out the album gets downright sad. Cold Beaches lean heavily into gauzy psychedelia as Nadia adopts her best Angel Olsen while expressing emotions she kept firmly hidden behind the tough façade of the album’s earlier tracks. Closing with the detached and melancholy “Go Easy On Me,” saudade memories of a past affair filter through the air on radio transmissions, eventually giving way to an instrumental outro that feels like the setting sun casting long shadows over Chicago’s artificial beaches or summer’s sweet breath giving way to the cold realities of another blustery midwestern winter.
‘Drifter’ is out now on streaming platforms and available on Bandcamp. Follow Cold Beaches on Instagram.
