Day 79: Charly Bliss — Guppy

If I’ve learned anything about my music preferences this year, it’s that “pop” doesn’t mean something is obscene and artless. There’s nothing inherently objectionable about music that aims to be pleasurable. I probably should’ve learned years ago that my taste and perspective is far from monolithic, but better late than never, right?

I only mention this because that narrow-mindedness caused me to overlook Charly Bliss when they showed up on my radar. Never mind the fact that music writers whose taste I trust sung their praises-their take on rock came attached with the dreaded “p” word, and that was that.

I’m now ready to admit the error of my ways. I have heard Guppy, and I have seen the light. This is an honest-to-god rock band that doesn’t borrow elements of pop, they weaponize them in order to smuggle punk-leaning ideas into the mainstream. In the process, they’ve put together one of the more effortlessly listenable guitar-based albums of the year.

If there’s an extended cut of Lady Bird where Saoirse Ronan sneaks into a concert with a brand new fake ID, Charly Bliss would be the headlining act. Their songs brim with all the combustible energy of youth, characterized by a sense of possibility, an endearing sloppiness, and a refusal to take absolutely any shit. “I’m gonna die in a getaway car. I haven’t tried, but it sounds too hard,” Eva Hendricks says on opener “Percolator”, which perfectly distills the album’s ethos of freedom at any cost. Her often-bubbly delivery can be disarming, but this album is about the messiness of shaking off innocence in pursuit of a life lived to the fullest.

Along, the way, Guppy serves as a broad emotional inventory, in (don’t laugh when someone’s dog dies, you guys) and the crazy things that happen when each of us attempts to “have my cake and eat it too.” It’s all about new flames, blackouts, and trying to outrun a life of responsibility in any way you can. It feels refreshingly free of hangups and ironic posturing, an ode to that rare quantum state of life when everything and nothing matters simultaneously. It’s impossible to hear these tracks without feeling at least a twinge of nostalgia, or at least looking back and laughing.

While their lyrics capture the sloppiness and confusion of youth, the form and execution of their songs are decidedly poised. The music is a perfect match for Hendrick’s feigned vocal innocence, as there’s an undercurrent of edge even amidst the sweetest moments. Power-poppy synths and dreamy backing vocals comingle with crash cymbal-led breakdowns like the cheer captain falling in love with the moody goth.

Speaking of power-pop, Charly Bliss does an excellent job of taking the torch from some of Ric Ocasek’s past producing clients. Early Weezer is an evident touchstone for the guitar solos on “Black Hole” and “Ruby”, the latter doing a pitch-perfect job of building upon the vocal melody and sliding its way into your heart. The post-hiatus guitar work of the Strokes is also a welcome reference point, buried beneath the layers of sweetness on “Scare U” and on “Totalizer”. Maybe it’s their tone talking, but that latter track’s chorus lead and doubled solo screams Nick Valensi at the top of it’s lungs.

Charly Bliss stand out because they know how to write songs with mass appeal without losing sense of what makes them unique. Seriously, though: listen to “Westermarck” or the delightfully far-raging “Totalizer” ad try to tell me these kids (I’m afraid to find how young they are) aren’t on to something special. You probably don’t need to let go of as many hang ups as I did in order to enjoy it, which is a good thing.

This is Day 79 in my 100 albums in 100 days series, where I review a new album or EP I haven’t heard in full before every day through December 31st. Check out yesterday’s post or see the full archives for more.