Review Summary: *equips sunglasses*
It’s been eight years since Brooklyn’s A Great Big Pile of Leaves last graced us with their bright and sunny disposition. In the world of emo-tinged indie rock, no one does it quite like this trio, who lean heavily on the juxtaposition of their jovial exterior against their self conscious lyricism and deadpan demeanor. Their bright and shimmering guitar tones have always carried their sound, and is the main draw of all their most memorable jams, like the unforgettable “Alligator Bop” or the infectious “Back to School”. 2013’s
You’re Always On My Mind proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the band knows what they do well and aim to do it better than anyone else. An absolute triumph of a record, it signaled the carving of their niche within the genre and showcased a quantum leap forward from 2010’s
Have You Seen My Prefrontal Cortex through its wit and levity. If I’m being honest with my readers, I was fairly certain that A Great Big Pile of Leaves were no more until the sudden appearance of single “Beat Up Shoes” earlier this summer. Eight years is an eternity of silence in today’s music industry, and it was a strong possibility that the youthful energy and carefree creativity of the band’s previous output could have left them over that period of time. Thankfully, this isn’t the case.
One of the funny things about growth is that you can change and still remain the same, and
Pono proves this in the best possible way. Make no mistake, this is very much a Great Big Pile of Leaves record, and contains a plethora of sonic similarities to their previous two releases. The almost jazz-adjacent leads of frontman Pete Weiland still paint a vibrant landscape over every mathy foundation laid by bassist Tucker Yaro and drummer Tyler Soucy. Weiland’s uniquely low vocal delivery for the genre still narrates the same insecurities and innocent wonder present in his mind almost a decade ago, now from a standpoint of wisdom and experience. Despite
Pono’s steadfast loyalty to the band’s signature sound, it feels more patient, which is a relief because I was certainly very impatient waiting for it to finally to arrive in my life. The band sounds more aware and connected with one another than they ever have; listen to the start-stop progression of songs like “Beat Up Shoes” or “Halloween”, where they’re firing on all cylinders, both rhythmically and melodically. The latter song carries the lyrical torch of the band’s first two records most apparently, hearkening back to the childlike wonder that events like the first day of school or a slumber party used to conjure.
Elsewhere, we find Weiland continuing to struggle against the inevitable monotony of adulthood; “Kitchen Concert” opens with the stark image of being kept awake by a rumbling washing machine, and twists and turns through countless escape attempts like dancing on the counter or hiding out in a cardboard box, Calvin and Hobbes style. Tracks like these feel more insular and claustrophobic than the “Locus of Control” lyrical narratives of the past, where the creeping threat of responsibility was resolved through community and hopeful optimism. It’s Weiland against the world on these new cuts, and the ways in which he’s learning to make friends with his own mind are fascinating to observe.
Lyrics aside, it’s just so much fun to hear this band jam again. “Waiting For Your Love” takes one of the darker sounding riffs the band has ever written and propels it into a herky-jerky conclusion that has become one of my favorite moments in any song this year. In a welcome departure, “Writing Utensils” brings a shoegaze influence to the table for the first time; it’s used a bit too sparingly, but has me excited for how it could be applied in the future. Tyler Soucy has rarely sounded as alive behind the kit as he does on “Water Cycle”, with the drier drum production doing his sound plenty of favors. The stunning harmonization by Weiland helps to lift “Water Cycle” from great to gorgeous, with other tracks like “Halloween” and the beautiful “Simple Pleasures” benefiting mightily from the same vocal stacking. And I would be remiss not to mention Tucker Yaro, whose frenetic bass lines add another layer of sophistication to this already rhythmically engrossing album.
Pono doesn’t reinvent the wheel because it doesn’t have to. New influences and attitudes can be found in the little nooks and crannies of the record, which you’ll probably find yourself investigating because of just how rewarding repeat listens of
Pono are. A Great Big Pile of Leaves understand one of the most important and impressive aspects of being a band; identity. They know who they are through and through, and it always shines through with palpable confidence.
Pono is a confident record from top to bottom, and was well worth the wait.
