Coconino

love, we don't talk anymore
why can't someone listen?

Photo by Travis Summer Deuel

Have you ever fallen in love with a band? It's a lot like falling in love with a person. First, there's trepidation. Is this moving too fast? Is this really the greatest thing to ever happen to me? Then, there's infatuation. Your pulse quickens when your iPod shuffles to a song. You exhaust their album on repeat, unable to get enough. And then finally, there's the warm comfort of familiarity, of knowing the music inside and out: every lyric, every tempo change, every chord.

I've fallen in love with Ennui. The Pittsburgh trio take their name from the French word describing a feeling of weariness and boredom, yet their brand of languid pop maintains a dreamy hopefulness--a lighthouse in the fog. Their lush sound is characterized by aquatic synths, fuzzy vocals, and longing lyrics tinged with nostalgia. Essentially they are the embodiment of all that is good in the dream-pop genre, and yet, for whatever reason have remained criminally under-appreciated. The release of their sophomore album, Formation of Tides, passed in April with merely a ripple of recognition. It's a shame, because the record is a luscious, atmospheric journey--its themes of temporal melancholy enrobed in a sanguine, silver lining--and deserves higher accolades. Take the record's standout single, Coconino: a commencement of regret, Love, we don't talk anymore, followed by a gradual uplift by gilding keys and soaring synths, and finally an optimistic end, Young girl, up to my window.. Beautiful, ethereal, and relatable? Yeah, it's love.

You can buy Formation of Tides on Ennui's Bandcamp. I highly suggest you do.

Coconino


Bonus: Balance and Motion