by Sabrina Cofer (@sabcofer)
Boston’s Pet Fox is a band that lives in ambivalence. Comprised of guitarist/vocalist Theo Hartlett, bassist Morgan Luzzi (both of Ovlov) and drummer Jesse Weiss (Palehound), this supergroup released their self-titled debut in 2018, which felt like warnings of a slippery slope: “Starting to feel minor setbacks;” “It’s hard to care at all;” “Don’t know how to feel / somehow lost that sense / what a pity.” 2019’s Rare Occasion sits in the middle of that breakdown, however unmoved; how do you pick your way through false safety if you can’t feel much at all?
They open with “Rare Occasion,” an upbeat, summery track with a dream-pop guitar riff that rings for most of the song. The bass skips along, its low notes countering the sharp guitar tone, while an incessant tapping of cymbals after each verse reminds us that all is not well. If the opener to Pet Fox was a yellow traffic light, “Rare Occasion” blows casually through the red.
God knows I love a good bass line (who doesn’t), and the album is dripping with them. A standout has to be on “Case in Point,” the second track, where the bass ripples through the entire song, a steady thread both soothing and bouncy that remains as drums, guitar, and even piano expand and contract on top. One of my favorite things about the album is that it lets itself have sparse moments where there is space in the mix for every instrument. Instead of the bass being too low or muddling, it stands out when necessary and balances out other sounds when needed. It’s not hard to tell that there was a lot of care given to the record’s mix by drummer Jesse Weiss.
The album rests in a sort of in-betweenness, delving into the consequences of living in no-man’s-land, whether it be in relationships, careers, or creativity. Just over the halfway mark, “Fine Line” feels heavy, the bass drum pulsing while the guitar remains low and slumping for most of the song. Right after the line “All is well, but nothing is good,” a foreboding guitar echoes, reminding you that this shouldn’t be normal—the eye of the hurricane won’t hold comfort forever. Echoing this sentiment, in exactly the middle of the track, a low-pass filter is applied making it sound as if the whole song is underwater. It’s a welcome, brief reprieve from the swallowing heft.
On the second to last song “Slow and Still,” Hartlett sings: “A lesson still to learn / How to settle with one mistake / It’s quite a process though / I can’t seem to shake.” Hartlett’s vocals are airy and nonchalant, but an acoustic guitar needles in your left ear, a reminder that you can’t feign psuedo-apathy forever. The interplay between ambivalence and rumination shines through—just below the smooth surface there’s a great deal of thought over regret, indecision, and never quite reaching solid ground.
Even if there’s weight to the songs’ subjects, they never drag you down. Album single “Swerving” is the shortest, and the most fun. The churning guitar and smooth drum fills are infectious, and Hartlett’s poker-faced delivery of “To clarify I nearly died,” is priceless. On “Good Guy,” a favorite on the backend of the album, every part feels intentionally rhythmic; intricate ascending-descending guitar parts, the hi-hat keeping time with the bass as the snare plays out its own more relaxed beat, and the muted cymbal in the background of the chorus. The addition of Erica Sutherland’s vocals on this track (“I should’ve told him / You’re doing just fine / I should’ve known when / He left for awhile”) and others on the record adds a welcome softness to Hartlett’s indifferent tone, even if his falsetto is already damn good.
The final track “You Should’ve Known” is a cautionary tale that hints to future growth. Tinny acoustic guitar is tucked back in the second verse, and guitar and drums build to a head-banging conclusion you didn’t realize you needed. When the guitar, bass, and drums fade, piano chimes in and choir-like harmonies swell as Hartlett repeats “Pass on the life you will regret / and piss off the guy that holds the plan / you should’ve known,” then fades out once more. It may not be a happy ending, but it’s at least a fracture of the indifference that’s so difficult to shake off. Only when you let yourself feel, even an emotion as distasteful as regret, can you move on to bigger and better things.