by Travis Shosa (@counterzine)
Lawn, the NOLA indie rock duo of Rui DeMagalhaes (bass/vocals) and Mac Folger (guitar/vocals) released their debut EP Big Sprout in October 2016. Nearly six years later, they've reissued the three tracks that made up their freshman effort, pairing them alongside four new songs that make up Bigger Sprout. The title implicates DeMagalhaes and Folger as not quite fully grown yet, but a measure closer than when they began recording together.
Listening to each half of the double EP back-to-back confirms as much: there's a considerable amount of slack on the back-ended Big Sprout that has since evolved and tightened up on Bigger Sprout. It's easy to make direct comparisons between stylistic counterparts: the brooding post-punk of the former's "Prefect" draws a path to the latter's "Medicine Forever" and "Night Life." Whereas "Prefect" bull-headedly marches forth at a spirited yet predictable rhythm, "Medicine Forever" teems with nervous, jittery energy at odds with its metrical cowboy strut, replete with the semi-abstract political musings you'd expect from a Parquet Courts stanza ("Red for the blood that is spilled by the gunners / And blue like the ocean and sky right above them / And yellow riches that make a man feel so alive / I'm alive").
"Night Life" is so palpably anxious that it can't contain itself: DeMagalhaes's bass is downright frantic as Folger's guitar erupts into cacophonous outbursts of harsh, noisy, unfettered shred. Vocally and lyrically ("That fire, breathing silence like a bellyache / That summer, coming down from the Starnbergersee / Don't talk to me about self-worth, just like a communist whore / Pay attention to me, little creature"), "Night Life" carries with it an outlandish swagger not far removed from Black Randy and the Metrosquad.
The development on the pop front may still be more pronounced. Opener "Down" is a cut of late-eighties/early-nineties jangle pop worship pristinely written to the point that it kills its idols. With a primary melody addictive in tone and brilliantly simplistic in movement, it's unlikely more than a handful of guitar hooks this year will compare. Lawn describes Bigger Sprout as "the culmination of years of heavy drinking, partying, disassociation, jadedness, political discussions, and constant talks about moving somewhere else." "Down," in large part, seems to address the last of those topics ("Think you're movin' on for a reason now / Gonna show 'em all when you leave this town."), while concluding that they still have reason to stay where they are ("I've got something / Here worth holding / To when I am / Down").
Golden age power pop throwback "Running My Luck" might not be as infectious as "Down," but it's not too far off either. Chiming guitar sets the mood for Bigger Sprout's most immature effort. Immature is not a statement of slander: the chorus of "I'm always tired of waking up / I'm always tired of feeling stuff / I'm always tired of acting tough / I'm always tired of running my luck" possesses a charming relatability in step with the adolescent-aimed music it endeavors to emulate.
Bigger Sprout serves as a document of progress: not one born of the abandonment of the past self, but of putting more meat on the bones of bygone days. A diverse collection of new material accompanied by a yearbook look-back at the origins of Lawn, Bigger Sprout is worth a listen for its solid songcraft just as much as it is for its meta-commentary on growing up through your twenties: even if just a little.