by Jack Peterson (@ajaxlp)
@ is a band that is not easy to track. Not only because of their impossible name, their abstract yet eminently readable album art, or the abstruse lyrics and sonic stylings that pull threads of uncomfortable musical brilliance together into one creature, like avant-jazz and bedroom recorded acoustics stuffed deeply into one bag, sans its factory-mandated pocket of air, struggling to escape. It’s because of all of these things, working together in ways they shouldn’t, creating a record that seems entirely out of time and outside of expectation. Autosmile is the peak, so far, of a project that is so confidently itself: the magnificently impressive duo of Victoria Rose and Stone Filipczak, who are, yes, a computer programmer and a beekeeper. Somehow, some way, those real-world professions come together to make music that sounds exactly like their day jobs smashed together. How do they keep these bees in this machine? Well, both members have been making music for some time (both of their solo projects are phenomenal, and sound precisely like the two halves of this band split apart).
On Autosmile, they’ve combined for the second time on wax to give us tracks that cover all their main stylistic instincts. Largely a quiet album building to much louder points, this is a record that is both beautiful and far from sweet. Darkness and anger bubbles up far too often, and the vocal harmonies that sell this record are perfectly lovely until they curve, sounding like they’d rather threaten you. “I’m Not In Pain” provides one of the best examples, begging you not to believe its title, yet don’t you? These words may be sung by someone actively pushing darkness away, but where is the beauty of these strings and satisfaction of the mid-song breakdown and rearrangement coming from besides some strange kind of happiness? “Punish My Mind” zags the other direction, confronting us directly with aggressively dark and self-immolating lyrics, yet the deeper you travel alongside it, the song begins to laugh at you, inserting monkey sounds and strange instrumental flourishes that depart from the central, obvious simplicity of its main purpose. By the end, you’re quite sure this manifesto of pain was actually building to an empowering conclusion, demanding that its subject and object seize the day, at least as much as one can. The most traditional song here is the closer, the quick, simple and chilled-out “Amity,” which recalls an unplugged version of the Elliott Smith track of the same name, boldly and conclusively closing this chapter with the line “Nothing left inside of me… nothing left to know”.
On Autosmile, @ brings together many recent joys of 2020s indie, drawing a big circle around the weirdo post-punky groups that have become prolific, understated aspects of the scene (Palm, Cola, Wombo come to mind) with the slightly poppier elements of the same sound (Water From Your Eyes, SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE), and the artsier mini-stars of the current moment (Babehoven, Horse Jumpier of Love). Comparing these bands feels wrong, though. Recommended If You Like, certainly, but @ is its own stark thing.
Much like every other aspect of their branding, @ never go for the easy melody on these songs (see: “Bird”), repeatedly delivering a beautiful pre-chorus and a jagged chorus, or a sudden chord or key change that does sometimes rattle the ear briefly but nonetheless makes this album what it is: not a pop album or a rock album or really anything obvious. Its obscurity is its point, and yet would you believe this whole album traces the tale of a painful breakup, that universal human experience that can be so easily simplified and polished off so as to make it nearly unrecognizable to a real heartbroken person? Layered under piles of strange new ideas and buried behind an Autosmile, a title which could be read as that abstract reflexive front we’ve all presented when it gets too hard, this breakup and these emotions feel truer than ever. Congratulations to @ for making something brand new.