Stephen Steinbrink
's songs make him sound like the kind of person who is good at looking happy as long as you're not looking too closely. Since the mid-2000s, he's been making cool indie pop records in his bedroom studio, and has been releasing a steady stream of homebrewed recordings that wrap languid and pleasing pop melodies around themes of disappointment and regret.
Steinbrink
reached the apex of this approach with 2018's
Utopia Teased
, which he wrote and recorded in the wake of the fire at the Oakland, California D.I.Y. venue Ghost Ship, a blaze that killed 36 people. While the music was often lovely,
was an act of public mourning driven by anger and loss, and while 2023's
Disappearing Coin
doesn't approach the lyrical darkness of that album, pay some attention to the lyrics and you'll hear a litany of letdowns and dashed hopes in
's voice. In spite of that, the easy, bittersweet drift of
's melodies is the sugar that helps the medicine go down; largely driven by vintage keyboard patches and his own multi-tracked harmonies, this feels like perfect listening for a Sunday afternoon with some clouds on the horizon. There's a dash of '70s soft rock in his graceful indie pop, along with a touch of the emotional resonance of the singer/songwriter movement that ran concurrently with the dawn of Yacht Rock, and even though the sadness and confusion of
's songs make themselves known after repeated plays, his gift for tunes, the elegance of his craft, and the occasional bursts of musical playfulness (such as the runs up and down a marimba in "Step's Disappearing Coin") make it music worth going back to. It's tempting to imagine what
's work would be like if he suddenly cheered up, but judging from
, he's capable of creating beautiful and compelling music even on his bad days. ~ Mark Deming