Slow Pulp’s sophomore album, Yard, is the perfect soundtrack for the true beginning of fall, when summer flings have died and there’s still a few nice days left before the cold sets in. Following their 2020 album Molveys, Yard goes farther and deeper, managing to keep the elements of their sound that drew listeners in without making a redundant project. In this new chapter for the band, Slow Pulp has made a point to stress a new, more intentional and collaborative approach, and you can hear it. Where Molveys holds back, Yard takes creative risks and trusts that the listener will get it. Within the first few songs, Slow Pulp is able to formulate a distinct sound that was previously forced to linger in the background.
On first listen “Doubt” is defined by its pop guitars that almost call back to an early 2000s sound: pink and plastic; however once you swim through the bubblegum flavored guitar riffs and airy vocals, deep fear and insecurity sit at the song’s core. The album plays with the line between genuine and at times devastating vulnerability and effervescent fun sometimes in the same track. Songs like “Cramps” lean into this saccharine facade, drowning out lyrics about desperation with loud drums and synthetic filters. Instead of feeling forced, the dissonance ends up being one of the album’s biggest strengths. It’s not just that the moments of lyrical intensity covered by surface level distance feel just as full of emotional truth as more stripped back tracks like “Gone 2”, but they add a new layer of nuance. More than simply writing about rejection or begging to be loved, the veneer of detachment speaks to the deeper embarrassment and rawness that comes with the discomfort of being honest.
Yard sounds like your senior year of high school. You’re right there in the tumult and yet still can’t help being nostalgic. You’re crying in your car one minute and cutting class to smoke in the park the next. No song on the album gets at this bittersweet angst quite like “Slugs”. What at first seems like an easy listening track fueled by apathy, at its core is about anything but.
The title track “Yard” quiets the synth but tries to keep things light with a bouncy piano looping in the back. Despite this, the song seems to function as an emotional hangover from a party you can’t quite remember being fun. Finishing as Massey repeats “Well, I don’t want to be/I’m selfish” over and over again, it seems less like a confession and more like a reckoning.
Yard culminates in “Fishes”, which while not the only moment of hope on the album, certainly is the most clear one. With its melodic guitar and outro composed of objects falling, the song leans into the possibility of self-acceptance even if it’s imperfect. Ultimately, Yard is an easy to listen to album that makes the messy stuff life throws at you a little easier to take.
