With their 2022 debut album,
King Hannah
's
Hannah Merrick
and
Craig Whittle
showcased a lush and melancholy sync-friendly sound that met somewhere near the crossroads of influences like
Mazzy Star
Portishead
, the spookiness of
Twin Peaks
, and noise rock.
Big Swimmer
finds them stealthily expanding into haunted folk and proto- and post-punk (think
the Velvet Underground
Speedy Wunderground
) without leaving their established sonic space behind. While the shifts are relatively subtle, the payoff is substantial, with a large portion of the credit going to the adventurous qualities -- and the quality -- of the songs themselves. A recording process that involved tracking the album live in a single room with producer
Ali Chant
(
Aldous Harding
,
PJ Harvey
) should also be taken into account. The song "Big Swimmer" opens the album in theatrical fashion, with a count-off and strummed acoustic guitar preceding
Merrick
's cabaret-folk-style explanation of her courageous approach to swimming and to life ("I'll dive in my head first thing"), under an imagined spotlight. When the electric guitar, rhythm section, and
Sharon Van Etten
's guest backing vocals kick in around the two-minute mark, it's as if the stage lights come up and we're off. This stagey impression, certainly aided by the album's live tracking, never ebbs on
, as the band move through the punkier, spoke-sung "New York, Let's Do Nothing" ("And you said, 'Hey girl, are you doin' good?'/And I said, 'Hell, yeah, am I doin' good'/'Cause I feel good when I am in New York"); the slinkier, ominous "The Mattress"; and the suspenseful, slow-as-molasses "Suddenly, Your Hand" which, at over seven minutes in length, is followed by the over-eight-minute "Somewhere in El Paso." Multiple lengthy, delay-heavy guitar solos into the track list, this is only the halfway point. The back half of
includes but is not limited to the shuffling, grungy "Lily Pad" (memorable for its repeated line, "I think I'm going insane"); the boppier "Davey Says," which borders on classic girl-boy indie pop; and a twangier return by
Van Etten
on the inebriated "This Wasn't Intentional." That's before the album closes on the cinematic folk-rock entry "
John Prine
on the Radio," the closest thing here to a singalong. (
Bill Callahan
is mentioned elsewhere on the record.) While
isn't especially hooky or melodic or cathartic, it is mesmerizing, and performed with an actor's command of an audience, a playwright's turn of phrase, and an expert sense of guitar tones -- as well as an enviable, intangible coolness. ~ Marcy Donelson