
Subtle effects often simmer in the background to tinker with the psychology the songs. “Spin Out” mingles recrimination and mourning - “you’ve stolen my best friend” - in an imposing blur of guitars and Mellotron-like keyboards, marching slowly toward acceptance. “Moon” and “Sick of Spiraling” find a quieter intimacy, with separated lovers confessing their loneliness and uncertainty amid patiently twined guitars.īachelor’s studio inventiveness shows up in large gestures and small ones.


But by the end, multiple distorted guitars have muscled their way in, just as temptation has steamrollered any second thoughts. In “Anything at All,” Duterte and Kempner sing in unison about trying to fight off an irresistible attraction: “How do I know if I’m caving in?” At first, there’s just a lumpy bass line and a laconic drum beat behind their matter-of-fact voices. The couple “slam the trunk, peel off,” making an escape that’s propelled by a sudden, Pixies-like swarm of guitars. In “Stay in the Car,” it watches admiringly as a woman emerges frantically from a market laden with “plastic bags digging into wrists” and leaps into the double-parked Chevy where her boyfriend is waiting.

Bachelor’s songs can erupt at any moment.
