2 posts tagged “tullycraft”

Every couple of months I go through what my friends lovingly call a “twee midlife crisis.” I listen to one too many Tullycraft songs or suddenly find the dulcet tones of the glockenspiel unbearable. During these spells, the only cure is a few hours of Joy Division and some pronounced sulking. And yet, the irresistible jangle always lures me back. In the immortal words of R. Kelly: “My mind’s telling me no, but my body’s telling me yes.” That’s twee for me.

Pants Yell’s newest (and final) album, Received Pronunciation, encapsulates the siren-like influence that indie pop has over me. The vibrant guitars, the charming lyrics, the sugary sweet pessimism: it’s all there. Pants Yell has always been the more understated, precise bands of the pop scene, and they’ve made a name for themselves by crafting intricate, witty pop gems that feel like eloquent inside jokes. From the tentative opening notes of “Frank and Sandy” to the upbeat apology of “To Take,” lead singer and guitarist, Andrew Churchman, proves that the band is able to expand their sound while maintaining the modest sensibilities that have made them
mixtape staples.

First single, “Cold Hands,” displays slightly crunchier guitars than expected and lyrics dripping with wisdom that only hindsight can provide. “I was young, I was selfish, I was in love, but now I’m over it,” Churchman sings with cheerful spite. On their first album, Songs for Sibling, the band embraced the roles of lovable losers, but Received Pronunciation shows them at a new advantage, where they’ve grown up but still have the childish vindictiveness that adults always fall back on. On the hostile-yet-sunny track, “Got to Stop,” Churchman calls out a guy for being an “asshole,” and in the twee world, that’s as close as you’re ever going to get to a Maury-like smackdown.

Although the claws do come out on this album, they are still Pants Yell, after all. Amidst the slew of passive aggressive quips and snide comments, there remains upbeat melodies and hyper-articulate hooks. It’s everything a pop album should be, but with just the right amount of snark to keep it from OD-ing on its own cuteness. So when the time comes for my regularly scheduled twee meltdown, I know I can count on Pants Yell to get me through my inevitable withdrawals.