by John Golden
The debut album from Glaring Orchid, a joint-lyrical effort of Quinn Mulvihill and Dana DeBariholds holds nothing back on i hope you’re okay. Distorted and unsettling while simultaneously glinting on what sounds like a much needed release of emotion and energy, Glaring Orchid makes a sonically cohesive and face melting splash in the East Coast scene to no surprise. Released on two extremely reputable tape labels, Candlepin Records and Julia’s War, i hope you’re okay fits perfectly for the the sound they have captured. Working with engineer and producer Tim Jordan (Sun Organ, Blood Red Sky Studio) they blend the somber with the explosive and find ways to make the grotesque and sticky sound gorgeous and refined. Jordyn Blakely’s drum parts pack a seismic punch and the distorted wall of sound too thick to chew your way out of takes you through a dream that lives within dusty, smoke filled rooms and dark, monstrous oceans, basements with unfamiliar faces leering at one another, a hilltop with the sun beating down on the sorry masses that are meant to live just to “die for a fee” (“diseased”).
“blurry2” glitches its way from zero to a hundred with an uptempo Blue Smiley-esque riff that is shackled in between the crash of hi hats and blown out feedback. Debari’s vocals are perched above the mix, raining high end down on the syrupy, lo-fi blend of woozy swells and chunky bass notes. The track feels like swimming through a river full of bacteria; sometimes a little misshapen and gunked up, fitting its opening slot perfectly introducing the atmosphere of the record. “blistered skin” comes in less blaring but just as raw. Mulvihill sings of the untrusting nature of the sun and the metaphorical paradox of doctor visits and death by mutilation. It builds up to an eviscerating, fuzzed out jam that sears and soars as high as the sun until there’s nothing left other than a bubbling vocal sample repeating an incomprehensible phrase that peters out.
A clean chord progression follows at the same tempo and the catchy “diseased” starts. The tremolo guitar riff melodically ties with the vocals in the verses and the choruses. The instrumental post-choruses dip into a tasteful flurry of fuzz until the second pass that leads us to a chant of the chorus with Mulvihill and DeBari lullabying the words “die for a fee” over and over. “sweater” blends the sounds of Starflyer 59 and Melania Kol with abrasive sludgy guitar mixing with sputtering synths that give the hard-hitting track a discombobulated bridge that snaps the listener between shoegaze and experimental synth rock. The production on the record and the Blood Red Sky sound help morph what could be a typical, east coast shoegaze track into a revitalized creature of its own. Glaring Orchid is listening to what’s buzzing around but morphing their sound from the dirt up.
“buzzed in the basement” brings the volume down for a bit, with Mulvihill and DeBari singing four lines describing how it feels to be crossfaded. The syrupy bass and vocals are dripping in chorus along with the reverb heavy synth sounds just as they describe: “stuck in between cushions” and like your “head feels like it’s floating”. Fading out from “buzzed in the basement” to maybe the shiniest track on this lustrous record, “swimmer,” has almost everything we’ve heard thus far but in a five minute mountain and valley structured sonic explosion. Throwing everyone they know into an ocean, Mulvihill shares a near-prophetic alternate reality hoping that they can swim. Mulvihill laments on the trivial day in the working class, hoping to not be submerged by the nothingness that waits for us all once we die. “swimmer” showcases Glaring Orchid at their best, blowing up everything around them and slowly picking up the pieces and putting them back together, trying to stay afloat in the midst of mundane terror.
For an album that centers a lot of its focus on mortality, Mulvihill stresses the visualization of death and being present at the moment of death. “herbicide” follows this idea with the downtempo yet punchy beat, a chunky chord progression, and lyrics depicting drowning in chemicals to an eventual demise. “take a drive” opens with syrupy bass and a steady beat that overpowers the mix letting the rest of the sonic elements play catchup in the chorus where a crooning guitar riff and layered, breathy vocals disorient the listener. The last fifty seconds come full circle, rocking the verse with an almost nu metal sounding jam taking the album to yet another peak and then down the slope again with “dreamer,” a beautiful and spinning interlude. A seamless transition flows right into “wake up,” a track that says what it has to and doesn’t overstay its welcome. For being under three minutes, it is one of the most lyrically dense tracks on the album, shedding light on Mulvihill’s songwriting and wordplay.
The album ends with “downer,” a truly fitting title to the atmospheric, acoustic presentation. This track is hopeful and then doubtful and sounds as if it was recorded on a phone. It is breathy, full of vocal pops and little fuckups that embrace the pertinence of feeling regret. After a few verses of hoping that one can see the beauty in everything, have fulfilling relationships and have pity on the ones who tout hatefulness, Muhlvihill doesn’t hold their breath. Almost sung as a warning or wish, Mulvihill gives no resolve to the overarching darkness that shades over the blistered sun. The closing line “I won’t share my regrets” gives the listener one more deep breath to take before meditating on the gorgeously morbid messages Glaring Orchid has shared with us.