The Reds, Pinks & Purples – ‘Unwishing Well’ album review: the centre cannot hold
THE SKINNY: There’s a pandemic of people falling down rabbit holes currently circling society. These are not the fun kind, either. Gone are the days when a pal would enter the pub and reveal that they’re suddenly deep into the lost city of Atlantis, thanks to a particularly engrossing article in Nat Geo. Those harmless rabbit holes would last a month before they came to their senses, and returned to prattling on about pop culture. Now, normal people are lost to far darker obsessions that, nevertheless, bear equal unreality to lost cities. This is the focus of indie stalwarts The Reds, Pinks & Purples on their latest album, Unwishing Well.
‘What’s Going on with Ordinary People’ is an opening track that sets the discursive tone of the record. The American outfit seem like the perfect band to tackle these fraught times in measured music. Their brand of DIY pop has always carried clear-eyed themes with a hint of wry satire that matched their slightly subverted melodies. Here, they are at their peak with that familiar combo. With sumptuous tones, they tackle strands of culture and people who have lost their way in a variety of ways in the modern age. Alas, Unwishing Well is too full of thought to think of anything else.
But are the times really any different than they ever have been, and is The Reds, Pinks & Purples’ new record anything new? In some ways, that’s a crutch that stops Unwishing Well from being truly sharp. The music is measured, which is, in part, a fitting match for the normality that the lyrics long for. But there is no soaring counterpoint that stops it from being anything but middling, maudlin disdain set to pleasant four-chord strumming drawn out with familiar fuzz and reverb. There is a very literal fine margin between perfect and perfectly fine; Unwishing Well sits a little too close to the latter.
Among the many things that the album bemoans is the concept of false idolatry in music, but it does so in an unironically meek manner that you wish had a little more muscle and performative might. There is a great deal of creative nouse and impressive craft with clever lyrics throughout, but they don’t quite tesselate into anything that ever feels pressing. In the end, a record borne from the conceit that things fell apart ends up actually hammering home Yeats’ closing line that ‘the best lack all conviction’. For all intents and purposes, this is alternative music at its best, but it feels like ‘best’ by numbers rather than anything gripping, fresh or friendly enough to get away with its nagging cynicism. By the end, it sounds like a droning moan.
For fans of: Music that makes you think of better bands.
A concluding comment from Piers Morgan: “Christ, and I thought I got everybody down with my constant complaining!”
Unwishing Well track by track:
Release Date: April 12th | Producer: Glenn Donaldson | Label: Tough Love
‘What’s Going on with Ordinary People’: A beautiful start about an ugly societal slide. The reverb-laden pop sound of The Go-Betweens is firmly established, as is a slight lack of sharpness in the forcibly hushed vocals that just stultify the song somewhat. [4/5]
‘Learning to Love a Band’: A rather more idyllic sound about the rather more prosaic subject of bands. There is a familiar cultural commentary feel, the sort that LCD Soundsystem specialise in. There is a familiar echo chamber, too, leading to the evident conclusion that it’s just a bit too familiar. [2.5/5]
‘Unwishing Well’: A sweet swell is permeated by an overly pronounced plectrum on string sound. This sustains as the song is kept sparse, and Donaldson sings in his now routine hush. Once again, it is pleasant without a hook to stop it from floating on by. [3/5]
‘Faith in Daydreaming Youth’: A background overture forecasts an ambient-adjacent track. Nothing quite pierces this organ-like hum, and the ‘I’m quite sad’ vocals plod into the picture once more. [2/5]
‘Your Worst Song is Your Greatest Hit’: The cleverness of the title and concept is somewhat undermined by the fact it has nearly enough been done before. But that’s excusable, thanks to a catchy chorus and perfect arrangement. [4.5/5]
‘Dead Stars in your Eyes’: Sweet and serene with the welcome pace-setting drums entering the picture once more. However, the topline is a little droned, and the production is a little too withdrawn to make it pop. A piece of beer garden pleasantry all the same. [3/5]
‘Nothing Between the Lines at All’: A track that is relatively indistinguishable from a blended version of everything that has come before it. [2/5]
‘Public Art’: A dissonant synth in the opening seconds hints at a possible new wave divergence before the reverb rubbishes that notion, and we’re back to shoegaze-inclined pop as yet more bloody moaning is spewed out sweetly. [2.5/5]
‘We Only Hear the Bad Things People Say’: “In my dreams, you’re still shining,” Donaldson sings, sounding like Robert Smith covering Joseph Arthur. That sounds like a solid concept on paper, but that’s not what this is. It’s just a fictional facsimile of that collision. [2/5]
‘Goodbye Bobby’: The dreamiest of an already dream batch of songs. Intense echo equates to solemnity and seriousness as the modus is stretched out to satisfy an album closer. Sweet and amiable with smarts, but it is somewhat nullified by all the similar pictures that have come before. [3/5]
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