by Shea Roney (@uglyhug_records)
Through the nitty, gritty, and shitty, PACKS has been known to lean on the artistic musings of the most overlooked possibilities; standing out as a band in both genuine relatability and gripping authenticity. The Toronto four piece now returns with Melt the Honey, their third full length record and their second within a span of a year, continuing to cover new ground as they go. Fronted by Madeline Link, PACKS’ sound plays from a controlled burn of garage rock, anti-folk and the barebones of pop-eccentricism, redefining the mundane with gasps of fixation and sincerity. Fully self produced and recorded down in Xalapa, Mexico at the infamous Casa Pulpa, Melt the Honey is a calloused gesture to PACKS’ individuality and Link’s growing attributions of self worth.
From the very beginning, the band shows that Melt the Honey is a new, and confidently, wide step for PACKS to be taking. Opening with “89 Days,” a tune that relishes in its patience and atmospheric subtlety, which originally made the rounds on the internet back in 2020. With the inclusion of “no backups for 89 days” – a set reminder – the opener anchors a predetermined tone that stands attestment to what Melt the Honey is at its core; a deep breath for Link. Taking despondency to its edge in past projects, Link always justified it with genuine and humorous quips that distracted from feelings of loneliness, heartbreak, and seasonal bummers. With current endeavors in her life, notably, falling in love, Link embraces this new feeling and allows herself to seep into what it entails. The lead single “Honey,” in reference to the natural sweetener and the namesake of the album, was written in a Chilean beach town where she briefly lived with her romantic partner. “Take Care,” a song of self guidance, shows Link in a loving haze, singing, “with me I don’t take care/but with you I will, I swear”; the band saunters behind her, lifted up by a prominent chord organ.
With an aptitude for metaphor in the most blank environments, Link’s lyricism is an impressive point of focus. Songs like “HFCS,” the treated corn syrup that plays antithesis to honey, lays in heavy with the fuzz and the sticky baggage that comes with chasing addiction. “Missy,” told from the point-of-view of a love-sick cat that hung around Casa Pulpa, takes the band through a melodic spree of “ahs” and a Spanish spoken-word verse performed by Lupita Rico. “Paige Machine,” a nod to Link’s historical passions, turns a botched Mark Twain invention into a melody for life’s ugly obsession with perfection. “It'll only work once now/'Cause you took it apart/And in this new configuration/Fucked up, now you gotta restart,” Link drawls out, backdropped by a canny slide guitar and a mellow acoustic jam.
Returning members Noah O’Neil (bass), Shane Hooper (drums) and Dexter Nash (lead guitar) have always performed with purpose and stylistic pageantry. Reaching new sonic territories within a collaborative and familial environment, Melt the Honey goes beyond any garage-rock-anthem or atmospheric jolt they have pressed out before. “Pearly Whites,” with sludgy, foreboding and fat bar chords, ebbs and flows between Link’s folky laments and Nash’s “anti-guitar” work of contained feedback. The two minute instrumental, “AmyW” is the most wide-ranging the band has ever sounded, drenched in psych guitars and driven low end, the track is an impressive counterweight to the softer songs on the record. The lightness of “Trippin” is crusted over by the subtle, yet wry guitar licks, Link’s reverberated double tracks, and the warm pop of her “P’s” into the mic.
In a telling sign of life, Link clamors out, “I am anxious and salivating/which proves that I’m alive,” to close the album with “Time Loop”. In a cyclical pattern of gloom, Link now confidently shares the justified hopes that this time, in a “hell-bent heaven-sent” manner, things will work out for the better. Ending an impressive collection, it’s a light song, broken down by its infatuated shuffle, spacious guitar and a sedated singalong melody, inevitably closing with what Link says “it’s not hopeless yet” – presented so bare, you can’t help but to believe her.