It’s not a stretch to say that the music of Pseudosix glows
and cinders, but ultimately refuses to take flame. They are a pristine
example of a tempered band; a musical outfit whose emotional range and
loose instrumental builds are properly curbed by restraint and a
dedication to the “less is more” philosophy.
This is evident in their recently released self-titled
LP—their second overall, yet their first for Seattle label Sonic
Boom—an album that is nothing but slumped shoulders, a head hung
in defeat, and just a complete and total downer of a record. Yet, it’s
also cleverly assembled with disciplined instrumentation, impeccably
written songs, and a general sense of importance that transcends the
usual local music grind. The bleak songwriting of frontman (and lone
original member) Tim Perry follows a rigid path that balances pleas for
personal isolation with an overall sense of dread.
According to Perry, “My demons are the looming potential of
depression, or even issues of anxiety, that can take away your capacity
to feel.” He continues, “Obviously, art requires some amount of passion
and the thing that fuels my passion stems from my hyper awareness of
this dark potential.”
This dark potential is flaunted on “Enclave,” one of the album’s
finest tracks. “I want to live in an enclave/Separate from the
rest/We’ll keep a permanent distance/Because the other side is a mess,”
and the point is hammered home with the capping line, “If you don’t
like it, you don’t have to come.” But in this self-imposed seclusion,
Perry & Co. truly thrive. Despite their simple setup, the music of
Pseudosix is textured and challenging, indierock for those who think
the genre’s best days have long since passed. While it might please the
ears of the college set, it’s absolutely golden to grownups, or at
least those of us pushing, if not exceeding, our 30s. Their music
incorporates elements of retrospective indierock (think Yankee Hotel
Foxtrot-era Wilco) and the best moments of slow-burning country
(think Sweetheart of the Rodeo-era the Byrds), both of which
flourish with Perry’s steady diet of cynicism and the band’s musical
flare.
While Perry comprises the core of Pseudosix, he is surrounded by a
close-knit supporting cast of friends and collaborators, many of whom
have joined him in the band. “There have been a lot of people who have
played with us,” he stalls while tallying up the total number of
current, or onetime, band members, “there has to be at least 11.” The
current incarnation features members of the Joggers, the Standard, and
more, and as the band’s population pushes a dozen, their music grows
and changes with the new blood. “The one thing I appreciate most about
this band is the tension that exists between the crafted song and the
free aspect of what other people bring to it.”
That open-ended musical freedom is most evident in “Fire vs. Flame,”
which sounds like the best song the Shins never wrote. With its patient
vocals, dramatic guitar hook, and biting lyrics—”Oh, I wanted to
change it/Separate the fire from flame/Ever since I’ve noticed a
difference, I’ve been this way”—the song is a compact example of
what Pseudosix is all about: clever lyrics, detailed instrumentation,
and a firm acceptance of their role.