To list all records that have been influenced by the emotion of desire would take a lifetime, if the task is possible at all. Who was it that first said, “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable?” Does it matter? Because it could have been me, or you, or any musician that ever put a pen to paper, or a hand to a guitar. It could have been Merchandise, a young Tampa, Florida three-piece who have just recently been climbing their way out from the underground and onto everyone’s radar. Children of Desire, the band’s short but all-too-sweet sophomore LP, reflects both all of the darkness and light suggestive of its title. An ambitious and decidedly grown up album, Children of Desire captures a promising, rising band in all its early glory. 
The influences of Merchandise songwriter Carson Cox are as unexpected as they are diverse, ranging from Miles Davis to John Cale to classic musicals of American cinema; and, on Children of Desire, it shows. The band were once known as darlings of the Tampa DIY/hardcore scene, known for their riotous shows in abandoned industrial spaces. But Cox and Co. have shed that label as of late, and their second release is far more than any one genre or subculture could ascribe. The vibe on Children of Desire is most reminiscent of classic new wave and proto-goth bands such as Joy Division or the Smiths, but really, those are just starting points. Layers of atmospheric shoegaze , gigantic pop-friendly melody, and piano ballad-style heartbreak are woven together so seamlessly that it’s hard to notice where one influence ends and the next one begins.
At just under two minutes, gentle and spell-binding opener “Thin Air” is the shortest song on Children of Desire; it’s a temporary moment of quiet, the calm before the storm. The album’s first single is the mega-sized “Time,” which features a hook so giant you could catch tonight’s dinner on it. “We’re still young, baby, but we’re getting old,” Cox sings, drawing from his own experiences with failed relationships. It’s a song inspired by heartache that evokes feelings just as grand and consuming as the phenomenon itself.
But Merchandise are just warming up. The epic, crater-shaped center of Children of Desire is “Become What You Are,” which clocks in at just under eleven minutes long. Beginning as a hypnotic story of melodrama and ending in a time warp of experimental sounds, it’s sure to leave your head spinning. Vocals here (and throughout) are sure to remind listeners of Paul Banks and Ian Curtis, and while the comparisons are definitely valid, they almost feel like cheating. Carson Cox’s voice drips with a bright sadness that– at least for now– can only be his own.
Underground club-goers will definitely be partial to the fast, romantic style of “In Nightmare Room,” with its irresistible repetition of the ghostly phrase, “I kissed your mouth and your face just disappeared.” There’s even a glossy piano ballad in the form of “Satellite.” But where Children of Desire hits a sour note – albeit a small one – is in the overly-ambitious closer “Roser Park.” Isn’t one song that sails past the ten-minute mark enough? When compared to “Become What You Are,” it falls flat.
Luckily, falling flat is not a prediction I would make for Merchandise, at least not anytime soon. Succinct yet shockingly complete, Children of Desire hits (almost) all of the right notes, but still leaves just enough room for wanting more. Both disturbing and comforting in the best of ways, Children of Desire feeds a longing you’ll want to feel.
4 / 5 bars
