Bent Knee – Twenty Pills Without Water

Art Rock | Baroque Pop

83%

 

The older you get the more the music you love begins to feel like an old friend. Someone that was there by your side for so many of your formative memories, to the point where they’ve become a part of who you are. You stumble across a band and happen to form a connection much the same way as friendships blossom, and as the years go by the music is there to comfort you through heartbreak, and accompany you on carefree summer adventures. Yet not all friendships last forever. We drift apart, move in different directions, and ultimately lose touch with so many of the people who we once built our lives around. Again, the same is true of music. Perhaps during a busy week we miss a band’s new album dropping and fall out of the loop. Perhaps a band shifts in style, or our own tastes change, and as a result we find new music to act as a friendly shoulder to lean on. 

Bent Knee are a band that I’ve sadly felt myself drifting away from. I loved records like Say So and Land Animal for how the band could delve into the most unexpected, nonsensical avenues and somehow keep emerging with memorable hooks in hand. They could carve out a complex yet playful soundscape entirely their own, and no matter how weird things got Courtney Swain’s powerhouse vocals would guide you through. More recently however the band’s output, and the parts of their sound that I love, have been moving in different directions. You Know What They Mean obscured a lot of nuance behind hard-hitting riffs and heavy walls of sound, while the abrasive Frosting frequently pushed me away with its hyperpop noise, overblown electronics and sacrilegious autotune. Alongside recent missteps, learning that Bent Knee had parted ways with two of their members – guitarist Ben Levin and bassist Jessica Kion – didn’t instil me with confidence that this new album would be a winner. I nearly gave it a miss entirely, resigned to the fact that the band and I had drifted apart. 

Despite my reservations, Twenty Pills Without Water is a gorgeous return to form. A more pensive record at most every turn, relying more on expression than experimentation, it nonetheless has a lot of the classic Bent Knee DNA that I’ve been missing. ‘Forest’ combines some fantastic tribal drum work with menacing synth hums to form something that feels like a dark ritual, ‘Never Coming Home’ has a nice funky groove, while ‘Lawnmower’ has an introspective Phoebe Bridgers feel to it, building from sparse indie folk to an anthemic alt rock finale akin to ‘I Know The End’. Closing track ‘DLWTSB’  meanwhile hosts some charming synthpop melodies, and delivers an energizing switch-up mid way through into more rhythm driven territory.

True to its name the dreamy expanse of ‘Drowning’ feels like being immersed in gently shifting ocean currents; its soft haze and expressive bass tone forming the kind of song you just want to close your eyes and disappear into. Yet by far the album’s dreamiest offering is the hauntingly ethereal ‘Big Bagel Manifesto’. I adore its slow burning build. Not only do Courtney’s astonishing vocals captivate from start to finish, but I have to tip my hat to Gavin Wallace-Ailsworth’s impressive drumming in the latter half of the track. As an aside, I also love the song’s nod to Everything Everywhere All At Once – if any band could lay claim to encapsulating that film’s eclectic tone it’s Bent Knee. 

Twenty Pills is without a doubt the band’s most accessible endeavour to date. While I think this was a welcome and necessary overcorrection from recent experimental mishaps, I’m sure there will be some fans who will begrudge the band’s more chaotic and creative tendencies being reigned in, and the record’s overall lack of surprises. The only track that feels as quirky and off-kilter as traditional Bent Knee fare is ‘Illiterate’, which to my mind doesn’t quite nail the endearing sense of playfulness. But besides that, and the album’s many inessential interludes, every track still had something to offer, something that drew me in, making this also the band’s most consistent outing. Listening to Twenty Pills Without Water felt like reconnecting with an old friend after having lost touch for a long time. The kind of reunion where it feels like not a day has passed since the days when you were thick as thieves. Hello again Bent Knee, I’ve missed you.