Home Is Where – ‘Hunting Season’ album review: Genre-bending is great but melody is where the heart is
THE SKINNY: Throwing shit at a wall and seeing if it sticks, is usually a great launch point for any creative endeavour. It’s a risk-free approach that gives itself room for refinement later down the line. On ‘Hurting Season’, we see that process in action. Almost like a spinning plates act, they smack you in the face with an outright introduction to their tendencies that blend genres, before reaching the B-side where all plates seem to spin in unison and the kernel of their musical ideas comes to fruition.
As a music fan, I’m a big advocate of innovation. There has to be a discomfort in evolutionary music listening, of course, but not without a coherent underbelly. In the opening songs of this record, there’s a feeling that ideas are being crammed into a song like a sleeping bag back into its case, with brief guitar lines or vocal ad-libs feeling like it’s been cracked, only for an over-jealous bridge to ruin progress.
But as you flip Hurting Season over and approach the b-side, the growing pains of the early songs feel like they have eased, and the band take solace in the melodic structures they’ve created themselves. For there is something innately American about this record, be it from the emo-tinged electric guitar or the folk-inspired storytelling, and so when all explorations of sound are rooted in melodies that speak to that idea, the band flourish.
Bea MacDonald’s vocals possess every element of something interesting. They are full of character, unconventional, and, at times, performatively versatile on this record. It’s clear that this project is steeped in storytelling, with the band explaining that each song is “detailing the dying thoughts of an Elvis impersonator, consumed by fumes and flames in a car wreck.” So when the songs exercise measure and allow for that to take shape, led by MacDonald’s voice, they prove they have the ability to capture your attention.
For fans of: Hot American summers, 4:5 skate videos from the 1990s and earplugs.
A concluding comment from Richard Linklater: “Could you do a 25-year-long version of this to soundtrack my next suburban American epic?”
Hunting Season track by track
Release: May 23rd | Producer: Jack Shirley | Label: Wax Bodega
‘Reptile House’: A stunning vocal take brazenly takes this track forward, initially with nothing but a finger-picked melody to hold its hand. The vocals are bursting with the sort of character we’ll enjoy hereafter, feeling full blooded and on the verge of strained. But the introduction of a full band composition softens it, giving a tantalising taste of what could follow for the remainder of the record. [3/5]
‘Migration Patterns’: As though a house party has managed to back a live band, there’s something about that introductory riff and harmonica that feels rousing. It captures the live energy at the essence of this song, that’s for sure, and it’s undoubtedly fulfilling its destiny as an idea, but I’d love some space to have been reserved for the guitar melody that gets lost behind the down-stroking. [3/5]
‘Artificial Grass’: Okay, there it is, the space I so desperately craved for the guitar lines, but done on the wrong song. As the band aims to straddle the line between emo and folk, it feels as though the messaging has been lost somewhere, with various elements of this song speaking on different frequencies. The bridge recalibrates it slightly, but ultimately, it seems confused. [2.5/5]
‘Black Metal Mormon’: Dare I say melody is where the heart is? I absolutely salute innovation in all musical contexts and crave it mostly, but this track only goes to prove there is beauty in refinement. The band feel streamlined within the confines of a tight melody, and the emo-led guitar playing works perfectly on an acoustic [3.5/5]
‘Stand-Up Special’: Melodically continuing on from the previous track, there’s something inherently delightful about the tone of this, and it only benefits from the introduction of a female harmony. The textures of the band’s instrumentation are slowly beginning to reveal themselves, be it a dulcimer or twinkling piano and on this track at least, they’re in unison. [4/5]
‘Bike Week’: Ready-made to incite a forward head bop of a familiar tempo, this track does nothing to wreck the journey of the album and arguably nothing to bolster it. Whatever your thoughts are on the delivery, you absolutely cannot knock the energy from all parts as this studio live show continues to ramp up. [2.5/5]
‘Everyone Won The Lotto’: The previous track’s place on the album contextualises itself as it beautifully segues into this more patient track. The atmospheric instrumentals elevate this somewhere beyond the rest of the tracklisting and show how their penchant for genre crossing can be beautifully executed. Patience, space and delicacy create something streamlined and conversational, as opposed to muddled. [4/5]
‘Shenandoah’: Exactly the sort of song the album has been threatening to produce throughout. The vocal ad-libs are lightly sprinkled in but with caution, finally giving the guitar lines a moment in the limelight and a chance for the drumming to steer the ship. The latter can’t be underestimated on this entire album, but on this track, Josiah Gardella keeps everything so beautifully afloat. [4/5]
‘Milk & Diesel’: Bea MacDonald’s vocals aren’t to be underestimated, especially on an album recorded as naturally as this. Almost like a softer Eddie Vedder, she appropriately depicts the sense of outdoor liberation this album seems to hinge on. When the euphoric blues solo comes in, it’s very much welcome as his efforts needed a companion. [3.5/5]
‘Mechanical Bull’: MacDonald’s voice continued to prove its gravitas on this B-side, proving itself to be one of great storytelling. On this track, it’s almost as though she has pulled up a stool at the end of the bar and invited musicians one by one to play on something that undoubtedly strikes you at the very heart. [3/5]
‘The Wolf Man’: This sun-kissed road trip continues on with this track, and you wonder whether the energy ran out or the turn of the record gave them clarity as to where they best exist? Because leaning into their Americana sensibilities suits them and, in particular, their guitar player best. [3.5/5]
‘Roll Tide’: MacDonald flexes her vocal muscles with welcome versatility. We’ve had sprinkles of ad-libs and power, but here, her voice feels more like an instrument than ever. But perhaps what the ten-minute run time gives them here is the proper space to explore their multi-layered genre interests. There’s space for sonic traverses that make sense to the overall palette of the record and don’t clash with each other. [3.5/5]
‘Drive – By Mooning’: Let that harmonica fly, finally! Throughout the entire record, we’ve had flashes of the instrument playing the supporting role, and it’s undoubtedly nice to see it have its moment before giving way to a borderline corny a cappella outro that, in truth, is deeply appropriate for this album. [3/5]
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