by Matty McPherson (@ghostplanetmatt)
When I emerged from the Knoxville Airport back in March for Big Ears, I shared a taxi with an individual over two generations removed from me. One thing we seemed to have in common was the acknowledgement that the last year had been sizable for British buzz bands. You know, the ones connected by 7” single origins that gave them an aura of exclusivity, ties to a certain venue or touring circuit, level of under-and-overground support, etc. As this year has progressed, another wave of returning acts, as well as many EP graduates, have continued a wave of creative songs, instrumentals, albums, and styles of eclecticism. While this new British alternative covers a wide array of prog to emo-adjacent chamber pop to post-punk, I don’t think either of us wanted to address the elephant in the room: that dance and pop have begun to distill into one end of this sound spectrum. Such has been the case with the debuts of artists like Jockstrap and PVA, the latter’s Blush LP quietly and unhurriedly dropped in mid-October.
PVA’s Blush has been a long time coming. Nearly three years ago, Ella Harris and Josh Baxter–who share vocals, synths, guitars, and production–alongside drummer Louis Satchell shot out of left field with the closing 2010s decade Speedy Wunderground 7”, Divine Intervention. The cut was an electroclash ditty–four on the floor drum patterings, simmering hi-hats, a rather blurred and slinky guitar, and Harris’ “reading of a laundry-list'' speech delivery. It brimmed with ideas more than it was an outright techno banger. Yet, no one else in that pre-pandemic window quite had a cut like this that oozed casual coolness with such a riveting synth drop and boogie-bounce chorus.
It was enough for the trio to call a crowdfunding effort for SXSW, amongst perhaps a run of American shows in March 2020. Things were canceled and the band still has yet to embark on a US tour, if at all in the future. Still, an EP, remixes, and an opening slot for Dry Cleaning followed in 2020 and 2021; all of which indicated that the trio’s dance-laden electroclash was beefing up its synth and rock elements, while maintaining a thoughtline with regards to talk-speech. Signed to Ninja Tune, Blush might as well fit snugly on a label roster between The Bug, DJ Seinfeld, Young Fathers, and Floating Points (amongst BCNR too, humorously), in a time where a label roster often (needs to) represent an eclectic, forward thinking curation. In keeping with the promise of their 12”, Blush is an exciting addition within that catalog. An album length statement that stands rather asynchronous from the momentum of this New British Alternative moment; more akin to a dark horse alternative nudging towards the dancefloor catharsis of hundreds or even just one.
Perhaps this is the result of Blush’s ten tracks and interlude presenting a vibrant range of perspective. From thought patterns to near-stories, into compelling dance-laden vignettes that feel personalized; there’s an electroclash sound here that can unite two sometimes-siblings, the bleepheads and modern punk enthusiast, into one melting pot. The kind of melting pot that has not quite been interrogated or considered since early 00s DFA single compilations, and reflects an energy deficit that has been missing across the past several years. Blush revives that rather successfully, sneaking in a series of guitar or electro-rock laden cuts like “Kim” or “Transit” that may not be outright highlights, but do rip and suggest further avenues if they are to go down the path of a rock-oriented dance group. Yet, PVA seems to realize that to function as dance music or an insular headphone “heads-down, blinders on'' listen, it has to have a cohesive grip at its center.
At the center is Ella Harris' flow and lyricism. One that is inspired and cunning enough to act as a foil to Florence Shaw's delivery as almost-GLaDOS. Yet, whereas Dry Cleaning's instrumentals beget Shaw’s coldly documented details with an aura of smugness, character weakness, or vulnerable self-defeating humor, Harris is working in a dance-oriented dialogue.She plays to the importance of repetition; that innate need for a line to latch on to under a bubbling synth and rollicking drum. "Can't eat. Can't sleep. Can't get to workout. Can’t leave” is a simple repetitive hook that frames a whole perspective benchmark single “Hero Man” critiques. “You keep Biting! Biting! Biting! Biting! Biting through!” is a concise taunt on “Comfort Eating” that cuts like a thousand knives. When Harris is talk-singing, she has an almost-pinpoint flow that keeps on that mechanical tempo, perfectly delivering a line as a synth or a drum land and documenting an immediate emotive effect that syncs perfectly–which “Bad Dad” conveys one haunting line at a time. She keeps a cold, practical enunciation, practically a PA system of her own; a Combine Overwatch if you will.
But of course, Harris is a human here. Alongside Baxter, both were instinctively drawn to synthesizer tinkering as a form of personal expression. Blush has edged itself as a queer album. This isn't Wax Trax! industrial edginess in spite of prime noisy “what kind of sound was that?!” bleeping; nor Depeche Mode wink and nod romantics in spite of how often Blush can make you say “wow that’s a clean synth patch!”; nor even T4TLUVNRG radically psychedelic gender euphoria in spite of several cuts that feel like personal triumphs; it's not even amongst another amalgamation in recent memory. It simply just sounds like the product of two musicians who like using synthesizers (and their drummer friend who plays perfect hard-hitting crisp percussives) trying to find a grip on themselves and landing in radiant euphoria or icy brooding.
Harris and Baxter’s synth production is flush with enough bells and whistles to surf on their respective tracks. Across the opening half’s “Untethered,” “Hero Man,” and “Comfort Eating,” Harris genuinely carries a tone of slight shock and amusement at having a sound that feels like a personal “eureka!” she can slip into and wield. “Untethered” bangs and bleeps to threateningly degrees as her voice becomes an endless reverberation, literally untethered to any previous assumptions Harris may have had about herself; “Hero Man”’s synth hits a silky reverb space that allows her to practically float in jubilation as she casually ponders a hero man mentality and the Sisyphean self-failing layers that masculinity presents; “Comfort Eating” is as cunning as a kiss-off Harris has penned, as an organ and bass give it a funk bent that mend well with those synths—themselves hitting a deliriously twinkly pop degree that could accidentally convert a few Beach House heads who have an urge for a lack of streamlined vibing.
Baxter does also take the mic in a couple key moments, with “Bunker” and “The Individual” bringing in a grimy claustrophobia that takes no prisoners. Baxter does his own gruff-talk style of the delivery that seriously (and welcomely) recalls last year’s Arab Strap at moments on “Bunker” and “The Individual”. For him, it's a delivery that allows the cuts he takes on the mic to masquerade a pulpy, hard boiled feel to them that effectively convey the brute viscerality; a transcendence is often suggested on these instrumentals’ ambient overdubs and layering, but often are pulled out from under with brilliant swagger. If anything, it complements and further shades Harris’ strongest moments that come out on the more subdued, but equally visceral B-side. “Bad Dad” in particular outlines an electroclash identity PVA could easily cruise off of just by the layered and anthemic instrumental alone. Yet, her lyricism and delivery purposely feature her in the mindset of a self-pitying “beast of a man”--a father that stands in for a society and worldview so much of Blush musters an opposition towards.
The fact that Blush sounds so triumphant in the face of that, is really what has made it such a rewarding release to have spent weeks with. Words and qualifiers will miss the fact that this trio’s sound and message are in glorious sync as body music that just simply has to be experienced–whether in a club or with headphones. Even as they are finding each other out in their moments, they do so with glee and a populism that is going places other British acts have dismayingly opted not to push towards. For PVA, Blush offers a real framework for where a lot of current British Alternative could start edging towards; I just happen to think PVA has a few tricks up their sleeve for down the line.