Courtney Barnett- Pedestrian at Best
SoundCloud
After months of riding a small collection of existing material, Courtney Barnett has finally released her proper debut album, and a great one at that. Sometimes I Sit and Think, And Sometimes I Just Think, much like its creator, is a grower. The brilliance and irresistibility embedded into the clever nuances of each number reveal themselves more clearly with repetition and careful listening. Pulling inspiration from snippets of Barnett’s own life and the world as it revolves around her, the album unfolds in a range of complex emotions and thoughts like a detailed schematic of her mind’s inner workings. Rooted in grunge and indie rock of the 90’s and early 00’s, the diverse grouping of songs is united by Barnett’s sardonic tone, vivid description, and general desire to search for a underlying meaning in commonplace situations.
The album’s opener, “Elevator Operator,” is a jangling pop number recalling a day in the life of Oliver Paul using the explicit storytelling style of “Avant Gardener” that won Barnett her initial, global praise as an artist. Crisp, defined, and witty, it sets playful and empathetic tone for the rest of the album. “Aqua Profunda!” echoes the same narrative style later in the album, a short and honest ditty about her lack of athleticism in a swimming pool where she “sunk like a stone/like a first owner’s home loan.” It’s the constant, nimble wordplay like this that sometimes makes you nearly forget there is just as expertly crafted music below as well.
Barnett uses several tracks on the album to sort out her own feelings in particular moments of struggle that are easy to come by in the life of anyone in their mid-to-late 20s. Following her wandering eye around a motel room in NYC, “An Illustration of Loneliness (Sleepless in NY)” paints a picture of the surge of isolation and longing that has overcome her on her first long trip away from her partner. The song oscillates on an echoey bass riff and punchy, syncopated guitar that builds subtly in intensity, mirroring her increasing frustration. “Nobody Really Cares If You Don’t Go to the Party” finds Barnett fighting the great introvert fight with an especially gnarly guitar part tucked in the middle. Placidly meandering through heartbreak, “Boxing Day Blues” needs no more than a few lyrics flowing in trepid breaths to convey earnest regret, ending the album on an equally peaceful and worrying note.
Working on this new collection of songs as a full band, Barnett’s increasingly deft lyricism is now matched in prowess by the record’s instrumentation and arrangement. Shining most brightly in the record’s two longest numbers,”Kim’s Caravan” and “Small Poppies,” the band exchanges the lively immediacy of other songs on the album for a deliberate landscape of sound that linger hazily without ever idling. Barnett’s improved guitar playing combined with the shredding talent of the band’s newest member and co-producer, Dan Luscombe of The Drones, rise to prominence in fiery, convoluted solos that fill the space hollowed out by the subdued rhythm section. In fact, both are the closest one might get to feeling the energy and captivating presence bursting from the stage at one of the band’s live performances.
As singles should, “Pedestrian At Best” and “Depreston” epitomize the album’s strong points. The raging irony blasting through the blitzkrieg of the former counteracts the introspective rumination on house hunting and the transience of life in the latter. Like the album, both are also growers. While “Pedestrian At Best” may at first seem overbearing and “Depreston” underwhelming, their undeniable truths rise to prominence, making sense of the iterated strong of thoughts.
Masquerading as simplicity, Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit very patiently carves guitar-heavy grooves of mundane tales in their most profound state. While her music has been previously described as slacker rock, Barnett proves to be painstaking precise in the word choice, flow, and feeling of the album as a whole. Her rambling, ordinary phrases blossom into insightful observations that are as relatable as they are profound while searing guitar lines, wittingly plucked bass, and artful percussion tell their own story beneath. An ideal soundtrack to sitting and thinking, it’s an album of everyday epiphanies worth diving into headfirst.
