
Porches – ‘Shirt’ album review: an effective abstract rendering of teenage angst
THE SKINNY: In his time as Porches, Aaron Maine has constantly delivered throughout his various creative whims. A truly singular artist who writes for himself and stays in his own lane, this tact has created an excellent discography with an assortment of sonic twists. Yet, with his sixth album, Shirt, he supplies what might well be his best effort to date, which sees him draw on his formative past in bands and properly utilise the crunch of the guitar for the first time.
While Maine uses the power of the electric guitar on Shirt, that does not make it a guitar album. The record still heavily features electronic instrumentation and textures, but how the New York songwriter toes the line between the analogue and digital musical worlds is exceptionally effective. He draws upon the electric and amp combo just a handful of times, but this infrequency heightens its potency. It provides a fitting backdrop to his abstract lyrics, which, despite their essentially fictional essence, intensely render the familiar gamut of emotions inherent to being young: anger, confusion, sadness and lust.
Naturally, then, Shirt is an album boasting a distinctive emotional arc. Mirroring the ones we all experienced as teenagers, starting with the furious, hormone-driven stupor and concluding with the emotionally drained reflection that saw us institute significant steps on our way to growing into fully-fledged adults, the partnership of the lyrics and music leaves a mark.
While the autotuned vocals and angsty vibe won’t be for everyone, Shirt is the sort of album that, if you engage fully with it and drop your guard, you will find yourself being impressed upon by the force of Maine’s creativity and nouse in bringing his vision to life. There’s a grand achievement in assembling a record so abstract but universal.
For fans of: Telling your Mom, “All I want’s a Pepsi,” the baggy jeans and crop top combo, and Amber Leaf 3 in 1s.
A concluding comment from your local hyperpop geek: “Porches? I’ve never heard of him; if it’s not Brat, I don’t care. Sadness is out.”
Shirt track by track:
Release: September 13th | Label: Domino | Producer: Aaron Maine, Mura Masa (track 2) and Mikey Freedom Hart (tracks 1 and 5)
‘Return Of The Goat’: A brilliant way to open the album, as the emotive strums of the acoustic and Maine’s autotuned vocals seize the attention. Featuring an almost industrial beat and an exceptionally catchy vocal melody, it’s deeply cinematic. [4/5]
‘Sally’: Kicking off with a gritty, post-punk leaning bassline, Maine continues to immerse with another infectious moment riddled with angst and a sprinkle of despair to offset it. Clangourous and grungy, Gen Z hyperpop lovers will be all over this. [3.5/5]
‘Bread Believer’: One of the best tracks on the record, without a shadow of a doubt. Maine stokes something deep within, with the programmed beat, melodic chimes of the bass, and another catchy vocal harmony all working in tandem. It is intrinsically autumnal and perfect for the leaves turning red. [4/5]
‘Precious’: A gothic cut, perfect for the confusing, all-encompassing mass of emotions being young carries, the chiming strings, crisp sub and Maine’s melisma provide another moment that harks back to those confusing days. It’s super dramatic, but effective. [3.5/5]
‘Rag’: One of my favourite songs of the year. It has everything. Wasting no time in getting in to it, the grungey acoustic bar chords, Maine’s direct voice, the potent riff, and beat whisk you off. He then enacts a simple but forceful masterstroke by cutting through the mix with a bratty, crunching chorus, before returning to the mediative verses. It’s a grower, but when it clicks, you love it. [5/5]
‘School’: Clocking in at just one minute and twenty-two seconds, this short burst has flecks of medieval music thanks to the stringed harmony, and the vocalist’s autotuned falsetto. He still hasn’t run out of hooks by this point. [3.5/5]
‘Itch’: Another single, and another highlight of Shirt. Something of a sister song to ‘Rag’, the simple but driving bassline, chords and Maine’s immediate delivery also fit like a glove, as they drive themselves deep into the brain, where they will take up an extended stay. [4/5]
‘Joker’: Simply put, if this song was by the late Avicii, who probed the confluence of country and electronica with annoyingly ubiquitous success, Porches would be a household name. Another short burst, the intersection of the acoustic strums and warm electronic textures offers another dimension to Shirt with immense mainstream appeal. It’s a testament to Maine’s ability. [4/5]
‘Crying At The End’: While catchy, for me, this is the worst moment on the album. It’s understandable what Maine was doing here, diving headfirst into post-pandemic hedonism, but the screech of the autotuned vocals, which were obviously also intentional, for me, is too much. It’s not terrible, though, and retains the album’s distinct character. [2.5/5]
‘Voices In My Head’: Another masterstroke. An utterly gorgeous composition featuring some of Maine’s best lyricism on the record and of his career, and driven by the power of his voice and the trusty acoustic, it gradually builds. It explores the bank of pent-up emotions in more detail, with the inclusion of the banjo and strings assisting this. The following lyric is genius: “Celebrate life, celebrate death, celebrated all over my chest”. [4.5/5]
‘USA’: An apt penultimate number, this is the most rock-oriented moment on Shirt. Comprised of the clean clanks of the electric, a gloomy bassline and an equally expressive beat, concentrating heavily on the toms, the cyclical nature of the music and repeated mention of “USA” create another mediative experience. [4/5]
‘Music’: An exquisite way to bring the curtain down. Neatly binding the mass of emotions that is Shirt, this piano-led closer is stuffed with imagination, as Maine does the business in a song that slowly evolves, It’s essentially a ballad, but given the themes, it works perfectly. [4.5/5]
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