Review | Peach Pit — You and Your Friends
On their sophomore album, Peach Pit offer some easy-listening to lift your spirits in isolation.
Two years after their debut album, Being So Normal, Vancouver natives Peach Pit made an invigorated return with "Feelin’ Low (F*ckboy Blues)". A complete 180 from their mellow early releases, the single immediately introduced us to a familiar — yet amped up — Peach Pit. As an album opener, it is perfect: epitomising the more rejuvenated version of Peach Pit we were acquainted with last year, yet never straying too far from the trademark self-analytical lyrics that fans have come to love.
You and Your Friends is a glorious slice of classic indie with the magic touch of renowned indie producer John Congleton, who is absolutely palpable throughout. Though it seems to deal with a myriad of commonplace themes — heartbreak, friendship, nostalgia, and falling in love — it does so in such a nuanced way that Peach Pit can officially distinguish themselves from every other indie band doing what they're doing. Despite this, the first half of the album often teeters on the verge of being a tad conventional — often running the risk of blending into one big song. It is inoffensive easy-listening, but often dances across the lines of becoming lacklustre.
However, the album soon redeems itself — "Camilla, I’m Home" is a heart-wrenchingly desolate cut, detailing a ruinous breakup over soft percussion. Peach Pit have the incredible ability to create music that is intrinsically cinematic; their soundscapes often feel sun-tinged and primed for a coming-of-age soundtrack. "Brian’s Movie" almost transports you to the dawn that frontman Neil Smith sings about as he delves deep into his own parents' meeting amidst one of the most refined, impressive basslines on the album. Their guitar riffs often stray into playful territory — "Live at the Swamp" sees the band breezy and nonchalant in their confessions of new love.
"Shampoo Bottles" shows the band at their most confessional, with intricate, hard-hitting detail of the lingering presence of an ex post-breakup. This is Peach Pit embodying a dictionary definition of hearts-on-sleeves, something which is accountable for a lot of their success. They are well-versed in using their music to create vivid characters, giving their music a familiarity and relatability. Their journey through young love and heartbreak is not a new one, but that is the beauty of it and its appeal to so many. Their microscopic detail of the every day they've adopted on You and Your Friends is a cue to fall in love with their intimacy and normality.
Where "Shampoo Bottles" is potentially the most lyrically unsparing, "Thursday" is its intense instrumental counterpart. With a crescendo which plants you firmly in the rush of unfiltered angst, the track is undoubtedly the highlight of the album. It is riotous and indignant in its account of lost love and leaves you reeling in the aftermath of its ambition and intensity. A new Peach Pit at full-force.
You and Your Friends might not be the most groundbreaking album in existence, but it is in a sense the kind of album that we need right now. Its sincerity is immensely comforting, and it’s the kind of steady, harmless listening that many of us are reaching for in the midst of the turbulence around us.