Spectreview: Ghost Orchard – Bunny

-CHARTREUSE-

For a guide to the review color rating system, click here.

Bedroom pop, as easy as it is to make, is also surprisingly hard to do well. An expectation of lower fidelity allows a certain degree of accessibility in the creative process, but the genre’s richest examples carry some element of ambition, some force that separates it from the pool of heavy, mirror-faced musings bedroom pop is regularly maligned for. Sam Hall has gained enough of a following as Ghost Orchard to make it onto indie label Orchid Tapes, and a cursory listen to his last album, 2016’s bliss, will prove why: there’s an attention to detail and a respect for inventive songwriting that permeates its otherwise low-key tones (think “bedroom pop plus”). Greater exposure is a step up to the plate, and Hall takes a big swing in his third album, Bunny, which largely ditches the homegrown production for something more in line with Soundcloud rap: metallic trap beats, watery vocals, mellow guitar lines. Across the record’s fourteen tracks, it’s hard to delineate between bedroom pop and chill-hop (or, technically, the line between adventurousness and trend-following) but the results are successful enough where the question dissipates. Despite a runtime that’s a little on the long side, Bunny’s switch to the flavor of the decade fits Hall’s style of music like a tailored suit, and its best moments transcend genre limitations and wrap the listener in the same conflicted energies that his older works do so well. The excellent title track transitions from a classic lo-fi chord progression to a downward-spiraling melody and a softly rapped chorus; if you’re already a fan of Ghost Orchard’s work, it’s a little like stepping out of the barn into Oz. The multi-part “Carousel” covers a lot of ground sonically, from its uptempo dance beat to its wavy synths, while “Station” feels like a direct extension of older material, albeit with a near-D&B beat facelift. Bunny does carries some of the aggravations associated with this style of music, not the least of which is an overall sameness in both mood and color that make it a little taxing in an album format, but its more a distinction of the genre itself than a strike on Hall’s songs, which bear just as many tiny twists and turns as he’s known for. As the album sticks the landing with a trio of brief, lovely breathers, Bunny leaves a solid lasting impression, indicating that, even in its ambitious murk, Hall’s only just starting to lay his cards down.

Recommended for drunk bike rides (but be safe!)