Mamalarky – ‘Hex Key’ album review: psych-pop indie in need of more life
THE SKINNY: For their third album Hex Key, psych-pop quartet Mamalarky sought inspiration from the bustling street outside their home studio in Los Angeles. Reflecting a slice of the city’s suburbia, each of the new record’s 13 cuts attempts to pass by with a distinct character—one song’s a racing police van, another two neighbours arguing with each other, the next a stray cat yowling after accidentally tipping a trash can in the dead of night. Hex Key is gifted with intimacy, as if you’re hanging out with the band while they’re jamming, gazing out the window, and absorbing the urban dramas that unfold while pondering your inner turmoils.
Trouble is Mamalarky also seems to score the moments where nothing much is happening on the street. Not in a poetic sense—illustrating a lonely leafy gust or ruminative pan across shuttered-up shops—just a nagging sense that perhaps their home studio isn’t situated in the most exciting part of the neighbourhood. Mamalarky’s noble ambition for kaleidoscopic reach on Hex Key‘s sonic diversity falls short due to arid and staid arrangements that rob the record of its supposed eclecticism.
While more meat on Hex Key‘s bones is needed, Mamalarky manages a taut sense of discipline with what they work with. Underneath their floating indie splash and mottled synths is a focused interplay which belies the album’s laconic skulk. Dylan Hill’s drumming grooves serve as the binding agent between Michael Hunter’s effervescent keys and Noor Khan’s unfussy bass, all synergising with elastic mesh. It’s the secret weapon behind Hex Key‘s seeming impressionism, carrying the album a long way when the songs start to lack a pulse.
Livvy Bennett’s lyrical musings on alienation and a sideways view of life are unburdened by leaden weights of anguish or crippling neurosis. Tackling deep disquiet in the same frothy manner as Mamalarky’s swirling lysergic flights, Bennett instead takes a step back and examines her inside-out feelings on the topsy-turvey world with a detached fascination. Just as if she’s looking out the home studio window on the litany of dramas of her own life unfolding before her, Bennett’s breezy wanders through her psyche share a pleasing tandem with Hex Key‘s skewed character.
Hex Key wavers on infectious hooks fused with eccentric strut but it also seems afraid of the plunge necessary to ring out each cut’s real creative worth. What results is a record that goes some distance but appears to give up too easily, earnestly grabbing at immersive indie psych but conjuring a work that’s undercooked, underwhelming, and a little anaemic despite the promise Hex Key often teases.
For fans of: Legal highs.
A concluding comment from the strange man outside the window: “Can I at least get a B-side?”
Hex Key track by track:
Release: April 11th | Producer: Livvy Bennett and Michael B Hunter | Label: Epitaph
‘Broken Bones’: Plodding indie stomp that displays none of the intrepid palettes Mamalarky possess. A wobbling misfire of an opener. [2.5/5]
‘Won’t Give Up’: One of the worst culprits for thin instrumentation. The shimmering dance synths do a little heavy lifting and distraction from the song’s tepid traipse. [2.5/5]
‘The Quiet’: Clockwork artefacts whirr and flicker in this aptly titled detour into a contemplative ambience. Discordant synths deftly wielded by Hunter. [3/5]
‘Hex Key’: Synth stabs contort and bend with rubbery tactility you can reach out and touch it. Ethereal grooves find Mamalarky picking up speed here. [3.5/5]
‘Anhedonia’: A dash of Wonderland fantasy sprinkles on Bennett’s ode to lapsed interest in life. Twisting everyday inertia into a rolling grunge-lite number is no mean feat. [3/5]
‘#1 Best of All Time’: Come on, let loose a bit more! You’re teasing us with that little key burble at the end, but it’s too little too late. [2/5]
‘Take Me’: A welcome change of pace with its stuttering waltz shuffle. Dreamy yet punctured by odd buzzing pests of electronics and sleepy flutes, ‘Take Me’ pushes all the right evocative buttons. [3.5/5]
‘MF’: Bennett lets rip both on the guitar and lyrically. A blast of seethe smattered with stretched-out synth weirdness. [3/5]
‘Blow Up’: Effortless hook is conjured atop the simple chord strums. Simplicity works in Mamalarky’s favour here, and the Phil Lynott twang at the end is charming. [3.5/5]
‘Blush’: Swirls around aimlessly in a mush of sounds we’re familiar with. Its crescendo is a saving grace. [2.5/5]
‘Nothing Lasts Forever’: Surrealist funk with a ’90s R&B chorus hook. Yes please! [3.5/5]
‘Feels So Wrong’: Shimmering acoustic folk rock gets along just fine with Hunter’s rippling keys. Sunny and lilting. [3/5]
‘Here’s Everything’: Floating in a shallow pool of glittering jam. Better than anything Khruangbin has ever attempted. [3.5/5]
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