Review Summary: Greta Kline crafts an unassumingly charming and thoughtful indie-rock gem on her sophomore studio release.
I first heard young Greta Kline, who performs under the pseudonym Frankie Cosmos, on Porches' most recent album, which I reviewed earlier this year. Despite only having backing responsibilities in that project, she was arguably the most consistently successful element of the record; her colourful bass-lines and delicate harmonies never fell short in elevating their respective passages. For the past five years, she's been churning out material at an absurdly prolific rate, self-releasing nearly 50 rough demos on her Bandcamp in that time frame--and it shows. On her sophomore studio release,
The Next Thing, Kline displays her honed knack for writing unassumingly quaint and thoughtful indie-rock songs.
Structurally, Frankie Cosmos isn't for a moment thinking about trying to re-invent the indie-rock wheel, and after reading the sheet music for this record, you'd expect it to sound pretty boring: there's not a single intricate melody, winding song structure, or dazzling performance to be found here. In fact, these songs are quite short and to the point, with the longest of which clocking in at 2:44, plenty of them lack choruses and border on vignettes. But what this album lacks in musical complexity, it certainly compensates for by being irrepressibly charming and idiosyncratic. At the forefront is Kline's voice, which is unpolished, and ranges from subdued in her lower register, to earnest and heartfelt when she reaches higher; it imbues these songs with a distinctively lovely quality that is critical to their success. Then there's her backing harmonies, which are almost ubiquitous, and add a tender emotional dimension to the straightforward instrumentation. Synthesizers and keyboards often play a role as well, whether looming in the background or taking centre-stage for a bridge, they provide some much needed variety to
The Next Thing's pleasant, but modest sonic palette.
If Kline had to rely solely on these qualities, she'd be likely be left with an underwhelming product. Luckily for her, she's got undeniable lyrical talent that is just as unique and essential to her music as her voice. Her writing style is dense, not in the sense that you have to meticulously scour the lyric book for shreds of meaning--these songs willingly reveal themselves upon a close listen--but in that she's got
a lot to say, and doesn't waste time getting to it; her vocals appear in all 15 tracks within the first 12 seconds or less, and those that have choruses often feature interchanging lyrics. Her thoughtful poetry tends to reflect on personal experiences and feelings ("Everybody says: 'the first one's just a game, you'll find a better one'--and then a comment about my body"), as well as bigger concepts expressed in simple terms ("When you're young, you're too young / When you're old, you're too old / Too few ideas, or too many"), which coalesce beautifully on "On The Lips" ("I'm sorry I'm high, let's go / Sometimes I cry cause I know / I'll never have all the answers / Separated by a subway transfer"). They certainly don't aim to slack your jaw by employing wit or grandeur, but Kline's sincere musings are vital to these songs, imbuing them with perspective and substance that provide for the most engaging element of the listening experience.
One glaring shortcoming however, is that the album feels half-heartedly produced; there's no crisp snap to the snare drum, the guitars rarely ring out, and it could have benefited from some better mics. Still, it's an arguable point, as much of the DIY, lo-fi charm that it possesses could dissolve if it was recorded by a more maximalist producer. As it stands, despite its relatively skeletal structure and modest instrumentation,
The Next Thing is able to redeem itself on behalf of Kline's lovely vocals and brilliant songwriting. At the beginning of "Embody" she sings, "Some day in bravery, I'll embody all the grace and lightness." Perhaps, for her future music's sake, it's best she remains unknowing that she already does.
