Sylvan Esso - What Now

The Guardian 80

(Loma Vista)

Though Sylvan Esso’s eponymous debut was a charming indie-dance diversion from the day job – Amelia Meath in Appalachian a cappella trio Mountain Man, Nick Sanborn in psych-folkers Megafaun and as spectral laptop experimenter Made of Oak – the duo’s excellently named second album seems much more sure of its purpose. On it, they gave themselves, Meath says, “full permission to just make bangers”, and there are three stellar examples: the driven, pulsing Radio, the magnetic alt-R&B groove of Die Young and, best of all, the vivacious, pounding technopop of Just Dancing, with a classic tears-on-the-dancefloor lyric about trying to drown lost love in the first flush of nightclub lust. There are plenty of less banging, but still lovely, treats elsewhere on this sweet-but-sharp set, too.

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The Durham, N.C. electropop duo Sylvan Esso debuted in 2013 with a single called “Hey Mami”—a humid snapshot of catcallers that hooted right along with them. Amelia Meath’s hiccupping trill, as light and sugary as corner shop wine, flew over producer Nick Sanborn’s languid, slightly arrhythmic beats—a surprising product from members of the Appalachian roots trio Mountain Man (Meath) and the freak-folk jammers Megafaun (Sanborn). It took a few spins to suss out its satire and parody; when the track appeared on their self-titled debut the following year, it paired well with far sillier bouts of humor, down to a song that remixed the playground chant of “head, shoulders, knees, and toes” into a displaced screed about technology (“H.S.K.T.”)

On What Now, Sylvan Esso’s second album, their driest quip waits patiently in the wings. “Radio,” a scathing survey of pop music songwriting, flings such acid as “Don’t you look good sucking American dick?” over their most broadly palatable synth hook yet, the sort of sound Katy Perry strove for on her similarly dyspeptic “Chained to the Rhythm.” Meath and Sanborn aren’t any less Technicolor or any more subtle here in drawling their disdain for FM radio-friendly songs that must be “three-point-three-oh” minutes—so you can picture their smirks when a glance at iTunes reveals that this track also runs almost exactly at 3:30.

Crisp humor is a time-honored constant in folk storytelling—Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan knew their way around a bitchy barb. On What Now, much like on Sylvan Esso’s debut, folk exists only in the narrative sense; Meath studies everyday scenes through a loupe, pausing between the punchlines to relay stark, occasionally morbid scenes of intimacy. However, there’s a thick sepia filter now with bigger set pieces propping up a more wide-lens anxiety. While Sylvan Esso offered peppy dioramas of untended coffee mugs and postcoital bruises, its successor scrutinizes more familiar pop imagery with a self-aware twist. Meath coos about birds chirping in the trees, but their songs are as clanging and mechanical as car alarms (“Signal”); dancers whirl to mask their desperation, sweat drenching their sequins (“Kick Jump Twist”).

Sanborn’s production is so boisterous, he hardly relaxes inside his beats. They bounce along with eccentric found sounds and Moog tics, occasionally evoking the sense of an errant tab opened somewhere on a browser. At moments, it seems like a defense of their oft-maligned genre, a fun rebuke of the stereotype that pop music is shallow. Their acerbic pop is both a product of the FM-friendly formula and a wry subversion of it.

When Meath and Sanborn ease into a slower lane, they find a sweetness that isn’t entirely likable. There is a bitterness to their Southern bless-your-heart feel, swaddling sharp observations in mannered dance-pop. The most haunting track on the album, “Die Young,” hones in on a burgeoning affair: Meath sings with soft curiosity about how she’s finally prepared to yolk her life to another’s. The lyrics themselves are a bit too histrionic to induce sympathy—“I was gonna die young/Now I gotta wait for you, honey”—but there’s no trace of irony; she is fully sincere to the melodrama over new love atop a pleasingly tinny house-lite pulse from Sanborn. (Reportedly, Meath and Sanborn have done the research, falling for each other after recording the debut.) It’s a moment that almost seems to answer the album’s title: the path forward may be calmer yet ever-curious, with plenty of amusement still to be found within.

The Guardian 60

(Loma Vista)

US pairing Sylvan Esso released their self-titled debut record in 2014, full of oh-so-quirky electropop seemingly engineered for artisan cafes (unapologetically or inadvertently, it even featured a track called Coffee). Now they’ve followed it up with a second, slightly meatier effort – though you can likely still imagine its riffs melding nicely with the smell of a freshly brewed AeroPress.

Lead single Radio fizzes with Tune-Yards-style energy, as vocalist Amelia Meath – formerly a folk performer – takes a swing at the manufactured music world (“Faking the truth in a new pop song / Don’t you wanna sing along?” she asks). Kick Jump Twist is a slice of irreverent, beepy, minimal pop with a robotic zeal, while Die Young is a more mournful take on the template, underpinned by a brilliant, 80s arcade-game synth line that fades away only to make repeated comebacks. Elsewhere, Sound makes a play for the Japanese House’s ambient soundscapes, but adds little of the duo’s own personality.

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Which is why admit to waiting with great anticipation for the next Sylvan Esso instalment.

With the release of What Now there’s been a definite shift. Maybe, nostalgia-primed as I was, it’s no surprise that the intro track ‘Sounds’ took me back to another time. In this case, sitting on the sofa watching the finale of Season 2 of The O.C. Now I’m not saying Sylvan Esso has too much in common with Imogen Heap, but the maudlin synth-sound of Amelia Meath's voice caught me by surprise. I got a touch emotional.

From that point on the album picks itself up, and not by halves. It’s got all the ingredients that make this duo so dynamic – Meath's voice is still sweet and bounding with energy. Nick Sanborn synthy poppy backing is still fun and vivacious. It’s a pretty unique sound and, like hanging out with your mate’s new puppy, leaves you with a smile on your face for hours to come.

The only thing is, it’s almost too jolly. While the lyrics are at times subversively anti-pop (I’m looking at you, ‘Radio’ and ‘Kick Jump Twist’), they’ve somehow simultaneously managed to get more… pop. Perhaps you’d call it self-aware electro, conscious pop, mindful musicking? They’re mocking their own game. But in doing so, for me, they’ve lost a little bit of the magic of their debut. The lyrics feel a tiny bit less wistful, while the bass is a little less heavy – that strange but heady mix from the likes of ‘Hey Mami’ just isn’t jumping out from any of the tracks on What Now.

That said, there are some pretty special songs in the collection. ‘Die Young’ is the thinking woman’s disco track, and ‘Rewind’ brings the album to a mesmeric close. Definitely one to download if you need a little pre-Christmas pick-me-up!