A Healthy Variety Brings Forth Mass Sobriety
Coco is a band composed of members Maia Friedman, Oliver Hill, and Dan Molad. They recently released their second album, 2 (the title rather fitting), in March, and it further goes to show their prowess as a trio of musicians who certainly work together harmoniously. Friedman lends her vocals to practically all tracks, and her poise is similar to that which is found in artists like Lana Del Ray. An electric guitar’s a mainstay throughout, but there’s also the presence of both a flute and saxophone on some songs, as well, permitting this variance in sound to highlight the far-reaching capabilities of a group as diverse as Coco.
By its end, 2 comes in at a short but sweet thirty-three minutes. In that time, there’s heartbreak, compelling poignancy, and tangible tragedy. From square one, Coco’s comes out swinging with “Any Other Way,” a hard-hitting, world-shattering commentary that endorses, it could be argued, the beauty of choosing one’s own path. Its lyrics are as dreamy as the content contained in the lines of any Tomas Tranströmer poem, and Friedman’s relaxed delivery is comforting. The song feels private, as if it were this thing the band itself might be coveting for their own in a corner of their studio. Thankfully, they’ve set it free, and the weight behind each word definitely should be felt by its conclusion.
Going along with something that’s already been mentioned, there’s a substantial bit of variety on 2. The songs themselves cannot, and shouldn’t be, seen as being related in any way. They all stand on their own excellently. For instance, “Moodrings,” the second-comer, has sounds reminiscent of lo-fi, as these chill bells in its background sedate, and the emergence of what seems to be the sounds of chimes also assist this one in forcibly entering ears in an intrusive manner. Somehow, however, the track figures out a way to welcome itself, and it lingers, Friedman singing, “I splash into your mood.” Sunshine comes through at the end, which is a pleasant addition, especially considering the distortion of Friedman’s voice—an effect that makes her the lover of a robot, or just someone who can’t reach another over the phone, since her telephone, metaphorically speaking, might just be malfunctioning—heard several times throughout the song’s duration.
“For George,” partly due to the absence of Friedman’s voice and assistance from a male one, is almost like reggae. It’s incredibly peaceful, and parts of it are taken up by curious whistling episodes. Easily could it serve as this anthem of sorts for free spirits. There’s this urge to wander apparent in lines like “He’ll laugh unto me,” and the mood is mysterious. “Mythological Man” is a jam that might’ve just been stripped from the fifties. It holds the soul of Bob Dylan, because, taking its lyrics into account, it would’ve been the perfect song for him to sing to.
While every track on 2 deserves a deep analysis, some thrive on their sweetness alone, such as “The Swimmer,” whose lyrics necessitate in listeners this deeper discoveries of themselves. Friedman sings, “You must know the body does fully as much as the soul” and “You could have been happy just falling in love.” If a guess at what themes Coco wants to address is to be included, then it would be safe to say that the band desires connection. Friedman doesn’t use her words lightly (don’t forget about “Any Other Way”!), and particular instrumentations work nicely with them. “Precious Things” is haunting only because of Maia’s vocals and ear-pleasing humming; it’s something that’d be good to dance to. “Cora Lu,” an ode to a seemingly entrancing individual whose name is, of course, the actual song’s, is soothing, and it could come off to some as being an honorable attempt at this mimicry of The Beatles and their “Strawberry Fields Forever.” What must meet a mention is “Wheel,” too, which is jazzier than most. It’d face off strongly against something like “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” as Molad loans his vocals, and he does, indeed, somewhat echo Louis Armstrong himself.
“Do This Right” was the proper thing to place at the end of 2. It’s easy to explain why: Coco’s just done it all right with this second album of theirs. The mass melancholy on “Do This Right” neatly steadies the pulse of 2. There are these we-beat-on vibes present, and they do much for not only this track but the whole of everything else, too, and therefore, at its death, 2 finds life.
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