Frankie Cosmos – Close It Quietly
Although it doesn't sound particularly exciting or new, Close It Quietly is a triumphant album for people that find catharsis in indie pop’s niceness
In a world where bands are becoming increasingly confrontational (see the likes of Black Midi and Black Country, New Road), Frankie Cosmos has the potential to sound naively idealistic in comparison. You could argue that this type of indie-pop has no place in our current political climate. On the other hand, it can provide solace in times of darkness. Indeed, the perennial argument of “what ever happened to protest music?” is a tired one.
Initially, Close It Quietly is music to appease middle class guilt; a lamentation of first-world problems and 20-something crises. It could be a soundtrack to an episode of Girls, self-aware but oblivious of its own hypersensitivity. Under the surface, however, it’s a well-intentioned, deceptively astute exploration of everyday grievances and a world gone awry. Last Season’s Textures, for instance, puts all doubt of any substance to rest. 'I’m just fucking glad for my bubble / Despite how often it is penetrated by evil', Greta Kline sings, taking to task the accusation that young people cloister themselves in complacency.
As Frankie Cosmos, Kline's melodic prowess shines as bright as before, and as a whole, the album flows well. Weaving in and out of anthemic indie-rock and loungey, experimental pop (there’s definitely more room for experimentation with synth patches, textures and other recording nuances), the band prevail most when borrowing from the likes of Broadcast and Stereolab on their more leisurely tracks. Most notably, it shows an ability to be angry and cynical without being indignant.
Ultimately, though, Close It Quietly doesn’t sound particularly exciting or new, but it certainly succeeds at its intentions – it’s a triumphant album for people that find catharsis in indie pop’s niceness.
Listen to: Last Season's Textures, A Joke, Never Would