New Orleans-based band The Drupes deliver a stellar self-titled debut album. Fusing ’60s-revival pop, harmonious rock, post-punk, and Britpop charm, the guitar-driven record balances power-pop smarts with character portraits, dark escapism, and eclectic song structures.
Opening the album with immediately rousing charisma, “Arial Narrow 7.5” melds wailing guitars and crunching distortion with instantly invigorating qualities. A peppy mixture of pulsing acoustic strums and gleeful vocal harmonies follows, the latter element delighting in a title-bearing chorus bolstered by twinkling piano. The band’s knack for excellently dynamic tonal shifts showcases in the next section, where a scorching-hot guitar solo oozes with fervent appeal, then seamlessly maneuvering into a lusher psych-ready array of organs and “I could feel this for the rest of my life” smitten vocal blissfulness. This commanding album opener is a proclamation of quality, hooky songwriting that relishes eclectic twists and turns.
The album doesn’t let up in its memorable songcraft, evident right away on the ensuing “Don’t Have Time.” “I don’t have time for you,” dazed, layered vocals mingle amidst twangy guitars, warming organs, and prancing piano. “I stay inside when I hear your voice cuz it’s not worth the risk,” the vocals let out, capturing the drain of dealing with self-absorbed behavior. A concluding guitar-forward burst again envelops, strutting a distinct ability to straddle power-pop serenity and rollicking rock ‘n’ roll. “Justine” is a track that flows with diverse entrancement as well, venturing from an initial acoustic-set introspection — with a vocal presence whose deepness reminds of Jarvis Cocker — into some of the album’s heaviest, most expressive guitar work; the shifts between heartfelt, subdued contemplations and ardent ascents make for a riveting listening experience.
A particularly beckoning hookiness dazzles on “C’mon, California,” where dreamy synth adornments accompany crisp guitar melodics, stirring in a chorus — “c’mon California it’s beautiful day to die” — that beautifully contrasts breezy escapism with foreboding mortality. The subsequent “The Epical Ballad of Tuff Talkin’ Moff Tarkin” succeeds in another realm entirely, with its twanging narrative-forward Americana spirit. Its lyricism depicts a titular character whose arrogance and destructive hubris seal his isolated fate, lamenting “he died without a friend” as quivering vocal theatrics and intermingling guitar layers aid a timeless-sounding tale. Following that up is “Let’s Go to The Mall!” — conjuring a more modern passion in both its namesake and energetic rock disposition, blending a spirited guitar-rock sound with themes of nostalgia-soaked escapism, whether in the form of chasing location-bound memories or retreating into a drug-hazed comfort.
An atmospheric production also shines on “In Your Car,” with a slow-burning rock moodiness adding to an affecting sense of mourning: “This is not the first time I’ve written you a song / It’s just the first time I’ve written one since you’ve been gone.” Elsewhere, “How Are You, Dan Davis?” brings us back to the climactic rock-ready vibrancy the band is capable of as well, while album finale “Uncle Albert” serves up an impactfully poignant look at remnants of family history and the sting of passing time, ruminating on fading blood bonds when the physical and emotional gaps have grown too vast. Jangly guitar work and emotively impactful vocal work consume throughout. Fantastic songwriting, moving between power-pop smarts and fervent rock ‘n’ roll, enthralls throughout The Drupes’ stellar self-titled album.
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