by Philip Anastassiou
0 Stars is the brainchild of Mikey Buishas, and the latest of many beloved musical projects the New York City-based songwriter has been a part of in recent years. The debut album Blowing on a Marshmallow in Perpetuity, released this past August on Babe City Records, contains many facets of Buishas’ unique style that listeners can expect from his brainy brand of guitar-forward music, including his unmistakable, precarious voice, as heard in earlier bands Really Big Pinecone and the clarinet-guitar duo .michael.. At the same time, this record represents a palpable shift in focus for Buishas towards a freer form of self-expression, one that privileges having fun above perfection in the recording process, culminating in some of his strongest work to date. It’s a seriously brilliant record that doesn’t take itself too seriously, all the while managing to find profundity in its reflections on unrequited love, being alone, and self-worth.
The excellent performances captured on the album, which include contributions by collaborators Stephen Becker, James Gentile, Michael Sachs, and Renata Zeiguer, are wonderfully wiggly: rhythms dance in and out of time, just as contorting woodwinds, warbled synthesizers, and spine-tickling samples bend in and out of tune, making for a pleasantly queasy experience. Within each track is a childlike eagerness for exploration, a deliberate choice made by Buishas, who shared that there was “no clear objective other than getting to the end and giving my inner 5-year-old-trampoline-jumping self free range of the neighborhood.” These little imperfections paradoxically work to make its whole more perfect, as the songs whiz between odd time signatures and unstable tempos, sometimes only for a matter of seconds before returning to a more familiar pop structure. There is a frenetic energy simmering underneath this seemingly tame collection of songs, half of which are no longer than two minutes each. They are not so much comprehensive examinations of any single feeling, but tiny bursts of emotional volatility, constantly subject to change. The music’s discreet complexity is far from hubris-fueled showmanship, though, and instead serves the greater purpose of uplifting the several relatable messages peppered throughout the album.
It is also impossible to miss the enormous significance placed on the motif of secrets, which recurs several times across Buishas’ wryly self-deprecating lyrics. On the aptly titled “Secret,” we find him yearning, “I want to know the secret / I still don’t know the secret / I don’t think I’ll ever know the secret.” In the case of these wobbly songs, secrets are given particular importance not for their mystery alone, but for the delicate intimacy they signify between two people. As he later sings on the wistful piano ballad, “Real Love Song,” “If I knew the secret word, you would know it too, ‘cause I would only tell you,” accompanied by quavering flutes that bloom into an affecting crescendo. To share a secret with anyone is to bestow on them a level of trust reserved only for the closest of relationships; there is an inherent belief in the other’s goodness and their ability to respect your emotional innards enough to keep them private, and in this sense, sacred – this is what Buishas is chasing after. It is a request to be let in by someone you admire, and perhaps even love — although it seems his plea remains unanswered by the end of the album. Buishas’ tendencies as a lyricist, though, hint that this lack of closure can be taken as a moving statement in itself.
Don’t mistake Marshmallow’s cute exterior as an indication of any lack of depth. On the contrary, it’s a deeply intelligent, sensitive record crafted by easily one of the most clever songwriters working in his genre today.