Groovy, slick, smooth, personal, poetic,
and very English, Arlo Parks’ first album reached
the #3 position on the UK album charts in 2021.
It’s a funky mix of hip hop lo fi drum production,
jangly guitars, cool synths and organs,
and Arlo’s hooky melodies, soft delivery,
and earnest, conversational lyrics. This debut is
nearly irresistibly cool. I love how she sings her
slinky vocals often just behind the beat,
the voice forward in the mix, creating this
intimate, slippery, laid back vibe–a terrific
debut. The second album from Arlo Parks
begins in the same way Collapsing in Sunbeams
began, with a short spoken word piece over
some cool groovy musical backdrop, setting
the scene and the vibe for the album’s
song sequence; an inventive, artful way to
create some continuity between records.
I have not yet heard her third album, and
I wonder if she held on to that signature
move. These tunes, save for one that features
some heavy guitar power chords in the
chorus, create a similar mood as the tunes
on the debut, but this record is more keyboard
centric, more conventionally pop, and
sadly, a little less hooky, at least to my ears.
Not that the hooks aren’t there, only that
they intrigue me less. And musically, it kind
of feels like Arlo and a producer hanging
out in a studio with a number of machines,
rather than a band shaping an ensemble
feel behind her songs. I didn’t read them
exhaustively, but I was hard pressed to find
in the liner notes a single credit for any
additional musicians. That’s possibly true
on the first album as well, but I didn’t think
to look–the music just felt more collaborative.
Nevertheless, these are good songs,
a sweet record, capturing a voice that is
distinctive, smart, comforting, and chill.
Notes on the vinyl editions:
- Collapsed in Sunbeams, Transgressive Records, 2021, opaque red vinyl.
- My Soft Machine, Transgressive Records, 2023, translucent green vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
michael jarmer 