by Sara Mae (@veryverynoisy)
bedbug’s latest album, out via Disposable America, grows out of the solo project by Dylan Gamez Citron. pack your bags the sun is growing is their first full-band record. The songs are kaleidoscopic: jagged vocals and shiny guitars, and maintain the intimacy of their origins. The upfront lead riffs sound like someone noodling in their bedroom for nobody but themself, the vocal effects have some Alex G styling, but there is a built out range, and elements of surprise in each song. The lead single, “Halo on the Interstate” ends with strings coming in, that fill out the late spring feeling of the song, the wistfulness of it. “Sunset (finale)” reaches a chorus of voices that bottoms out and gives way to the characteristic bedbug reflective ambience.
The looping on “Mount Moon” over a voicemail sounds almost a little like an icecream truck melody, and it builds from that first section on top of whispered, layered dialogue and some high chimerical synth notes, until a dancier beat comes in halfway through and a boomerang crooning takes over. On “New Kinds of Stars” Citron sings, “When I close my eyes I can see the moon double, crack, and grow, and everything slows.” The song continues along until the sentimental and bursting line, “you are a part of all that grows,” and the sound opens up, flute-like bouquets of synth notes, a swelling guitar. “Postcard” has a sweet, almost slow opening, Citron singing, “lately forgetting all my songs on the daily, on the daily, on the daily,” the repetition feeling like a moment of lingering closeness, or even confession. “Seasons on the New Coast” feels like setting a list of intentions, the lyrics making promises, the drums creating a field of disciplined attention.
On one of the bonus tracks, “Moon Still Grows,” some of the themes of the album start to reveal their infrastructure, questions are asked about one’s purpose as they age, and kismet meets with the you of the song. Similarly, “Leave Your Things, the Stars are Returning” feels like a paraphrasing of the album itself, and the lyrics include that titular line, the vocals growing more desperate and gritty. A seven minute song, with layered guitar riffs that sort of talk to each other, it’s almost like a conversation with a crush when you’re talking with your hands back and forth. There is a sing along quality to this one, a frenzied refrain of ooh and ahhs. That this is a full band record really shines through on the structure of all of these songs and the arc of the album as a whole. There are looping themes and images that re-emerge, but compared to previous bedbug records, there is less repetition and more cracks, branching off, almost side tangents in the music, with the additional instrumentation and expanded scope of the songs. While this record still honors a pocket of the Boston scene sound, it is clear that bedbug has found a new alchemy on pack your bags the sun is growing.