Listeners’ verdicts on Motherhood’s second LP will come down to their hot takes on what surrounds “Tabletop.”
The song, the fourth track off the band’s new LP, Winded, is, in fact, quite good – and full of earworms that will drive you nuts for weeks. Driven by engaging, clickety-clackety percussion from drummer Adam Sipkema, the song fits the verse/chorus mold in the art-punkiest sense of the phrase, with leading man Brydon Crain offering off-kilter guitar chords and keyboardist Penelope Stevens bleating out texture and tone. It’s got great bridges and an engaging, though mostly unaffected, vocal performance by Crain. With “Tabletop” released as the first single from the LP, the thing was bound to be good, even great, right? Well, we are sad to report the rest of the record is fun, even inventive, in an art-damaged kind of way – but none of it, especially a closing that comes out of nowhere, lives up to “Tabletop.”
The LP begins with two songs both titled “Crawly.” The first tune is a great first song, starting mid-measure on drums – watch Sipkema for the hook; Crain nails his quirky but defiantly innocent brand of sing-song, though he sometimes borders on the de-tuned or adenoidal. A horror-themed bridge mid-song does everything it can to liven up the proceedings, but, ultimately, the chemistry, the tension, between the three just isn’t potent enough. The second “Crawly” is decidedly quirkier, with both Crain and Sipkema accenting notes on off-meter measures. A deeply buried “Whoo!” mid-chorus, though, is indicative of the choices made by mixer Greg Saunier, he of Deerhoof. (A good point of reference to this Canadian trio, for what it’s worth.) It’s the most ecstatic, joyous little moment of the song – it’s repeated, too, for good measure – but Saunier and company are focused so much on the rollick, they miss the roll.
The rest of the LP is a little bit hit or miss. “Flood,” though interesting, can be oddly maudlin and feels slightly out of place. “Ripped Sheet,” on the other hand, is a great little bit of cataclysmic relief, with the band thrashing (the vocals are particularly desperate) behind Sipkema’s simple hardcore beat. At the end, you’re left wishing the trio let loose with a little more composure elsewhere.
The close of the record is better, though unexpected – a total, unexplained departure from the first half of the LP. There’s an interesting demo, the too-short acoustic rumination “Brakes Snap.” (Short verdict: these guys sound nothing like their demos.) But three songs circle the pool in the closing moments and they all have varying levels of success trying to bolster the proceedings. A metal-ish descent or two hampers “Handbrake,” though the quieter sections of the song have a great interplay between the flute-flecked keys and Sipkema’s interesting backbeats. “Shuttered Down” has a great sense of déjà vu to it, with Crain plainly mumbling over hi-hat-driven beats and synth drone.
Then, there’s “Trees.” Starting with a funereal organ, Crain’s almost out-of-tune voice draws parallels to the innocence of Daniel Johnston – that’s high praise – but the song continues feeling like something that would be pouring out as the circus leaves town, driving down some imaginary avenue. There’s little to the gossamer of the song – lots of stops from drums around occasional synth buzzing and a guitar chord here or there – but it somehow works, much in the vein of early Elephant 6 or even Elf Power at its heights. Yep, it’s a good song, but it’s too little, too late to save the LP, which ends up feeling very uneven and almost bipolar. If these guys could hammer out more “Tabletop”s, though, then they’d be onto something. — Justin Vellucci, Spectrum Culture, Aug. 2, 2022
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