by Jonah Evans (@jonahinthesnow)
Brooklyn-based artist Avery Friedman’s debut album is out today. The sensation of experiencing the new can be exciting; it can be terrifying too. In any case, New Thing seems like a subtle embrace of moving forward and looking to the future.
“Intro” has slow, meandering guitar chords, occasionally interjected by individual strings plucking up and down a small scale. The tone is warm, and sparse vocals softly poke through the sound of the music in brief, conversational statements. The phrase “don’t look” is the most notable lyric that comes through, as it’s repeated many times in the intro, and it’s difficult to imagine if this New Thing could be like jumping into the unknown.
The title track introduces Friedman’s calming, even voice. The drums come in softly, and then Friedman’s first lyrics are, “It’s a little bit of a new thing / It’s a little hard to predict / And I can’t quite describe it / But it’s like a magnet flipped.” The drums continue a steady beat throughout the song, and the bass follows. Reverb, accents, and gorgeously wobbly, wandering sounds come from one guitar, and simple, pertinent, unmasked sounds come from another. The contrast creates tension in the song, mirroring this wanderlust sensation surrounding the idea of moving forward into the unknown.
“Photo Booth” has a nice lo-fi buzz with an 80s-sounding trilling synth sound that presents itself in and out of the song, emphasizing a pleasant-colored aura. Friedman’s distinctive vibrato shines in this song, hitting the lower notes in her range and providing clear and textured melodies in the song between her voice and all the instruments. The bass and drum drive the tone of this song by giving a punchy, steady beat that, if sped up, could be a dance song. It’s like a steady heartbeat, giving a marching sensation, like walking in a city with a purpose. Friedman matches this darker, beautifully toned energy with her voice as well.
“Photo Booth” marches into “Finger Painting,” drifting from the temporary higher energy in a lovely way. It starts with a single, tempered, wallowing guitar riff. Friedman’s voice is slow and almost seems restful. The lyrics to the chorus add to the song's tension: “Now I’m finger painting / I’m letting myself trace it / And you’re looking up at me now / And you say you wanna taste it / Do you wanna taste it?” The act of finger painting seems to exude this sense of freedom, and “I’m letting myself trace it” almost feels like an acceptance of this New Thing. “Finger Painting” holds no bars because it escalates slowly, sonically, until it ends, and it’s hard not to feel the blooming sensation of freedom and explosive wonder it presents. So Powerful.
“Somewhere to Go” has sneaky electro-fuzz vibes produced by an ominous slow-building electronic bass sound that becomes fully realized halfway through the song. The song ends in an electronic faze that’s quite surprising. It’s dark and trills while skillfully dragging the song under the surface of comforting sound, placating a fear of moving forward into uncertainty.
The imagery that Friedman uses is also awesome, such as in one of the songs singles, “Flowers that Fell.” In the first verse, they are “Greene Avenue / footsteps sound the same / And you / we’re looking down at your shoes / And we couldn’t stop kissing / On the roof /sidewalks, photo booths.” The smell and sound and images are so evident, and maybe looking at the lyrics, this New Thing could be about love, huh? Though aren’t so many new things scary?
Something great about New Thing is that it is exploratory while still intentionally stating a clear identity. Sounds bubble but don't pop; instead, they fade in and fade out in timely fashions. New Thing is an album that wants to scratch under the surface, to look at and feel the sensations of the unknown whether it hurts or not. The album is feeling its way forward, presenting some of its findings along the way, and showing them with sound that is curious about life, discovery, and taking that leap into what is unseen.