Charmingly contradictory indie pop
On first listen, the title Doom Singer may seem rather out of place for indie rocker Chris Farren’s newest album. Farren told Pitchfork that his intention while making Doom Singer was to “have a good time,” a spirit that’s reflected in the album’s electric energy. The “doom” of Doom Singer comes through in the album’s lyrics. Farren describes the album as “optimistic nihilism,” fantasizing about the sun exploding over melodic, bubblegum guitar. It’s hard to place Farren’s attitude along the spectrum of irony and authenticity – are the lyrics overly simplistic, or is this an intentional choice? There are moments in the album that may certainly read as cringeworthy, lyrics written with a teenage version of a devil-may-care attitude. Farren’s magic, however, is that listeners want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his music isn’t flawless, but it’s certainly fun.
Farren gained a following from his now defunct punk band, Fake Problems. Comparing his previous sound to that of his solo music, his current indie-pop sound seems like a hard left turn. Farren, however, is a great example of a phenomenon amongst ex-punk musicians now releasing in other genres: experienced with a genre that praises energy over complexity, Farren knows how to write a song that’s both simple and highly effective.
There’s something classic about Farren’s music, a melodic know-how that at times reads as vintage. “Bluish” opens with a rock and roll chord progression, before spiraling into Farren’s most common sound on Doom Singer: melodic, 2000s-influenced indie rock, with enough guitar to read as alternative and strong enough hooks to be radio-friendly.
While Farren’s voice at times carries an awkward edge, changing tone and accent in an exploration of sound, the hipster energy of Doom Singer makes this forgivable. Maybe Farren isn’t cool like a rockstar, but he’s cool like an older cousin who won his high school battle of the bands. He’s the entertainment at the school dance in a 2010s teen movie, but it’s a pretty great school dance.
Doom Singer is musically best when it leans into this energy, from the satisfying crunch of cymbal and distortion under “Get Over U” to the twee, Magnetic Fields-edged sound of “Only U,” endearingly cheesy in the way a soundtrack to an early 2000s indie film might be. Vintage influences add to Doom Singer’s nostalgia, with staccato, 60’s chord progressions underlining “Doom Singer,” the My Bloody Valentine-goes-pop clamor of “Screensaver” and the 1950s rock-and-roll coolness of “My Beauty.”
The more fun the music sounds, however, the clearer it becomes just how grim the album’s lyrics are. While this contrast isn’t necessarily a bad thing, song after song of it can make it feel more like a gimmick than anything born out of genuine feeling. While listeners may wish for a grittier sound by the end of the album, they may be less satisfied when their wishes are fulfilled.
The final two tracks of Doom Singer swing darker; “Cosmic Leash” finds its way to a pop-punk chorus more in-line with the rest of the album’s sound, but feels initially out of place. Likewise, the final track is the low, buzzy “Statue Song,” a track that tries for post-punk melancholy but ends up a little hollow, Farren’s vocals too bright and personable to sell the sound. It’s a little disappointing to end on such a downer of a track after an album that’s main merit is being fun to listen to, but perhaps “Statue Song” helps contextualize the clash present throughout the rest of the album. Farren can’t quite pull off doom and gloom; if he wants to write a song with darker themes, “optimistic nihilism” may be his only option. Luckily for his listeners, Farren has a talent for optimism.
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