Pelvis Wrestley has been a major draw almost since they began playing in 2018, standing out with their distinctive fusion of synth-pop and country. In their latest album, ANDY, or; The Four Horsegirls of the Apocalypse, they explore the dimensions of their sound carefully and with enduring flair.
The opening track, “Found a Friend,” seems to operate like a gate with glistening doors, guarding their creativity and slowly displaying it until it comes at you with full force.
ANDY’s first impression is fuelled by a steady beat and accentuated by atmospheric echoes and bandleader Jammy Violet’s profound lyricism. “Found a Friend” immediately builds anticipation for the rest of the album.
ANDY, or; The Four Horesgirls of the Apocalypse is vibrant and undeniably fun.
There are instances where it seems like it was retrieved from a vault of long-lost 80s synth-pop music, particularly through the instrumentation at the beginning of “No One You Know” and through the guitar riffs in “Act2ualize.” These tracks are also underscored with mystically madcap keyboard sounds, which are amusingly eccentric in a Sparks-esque fashion.
However, ANDY’s nostalgic sound also shines through its use of country influences.
This becomes clear through the wistful sounds in “Drawbridge,” with a chorus like an old serenade as Violet calls for someone to make the move, saying, “Every day, I wake up from a dream of you and me, shoulder to shoulder.” It’s romantic, like a song that could be played on a sentimental Sunday afternoon.
“Horse Dreams,” the centermost track, is indisputably a standout; it is so full in its sound.
Violet sings of how they are waiting for a “horse with wings,” a symbol of imagination in Greek mythology, perfectly suited for an album that has successfully actualized imaginative concepts. For instance, the song’s bridge feels like it is inventing its own world; during the bridge, the drums and steel guitar set down its foundation and allow the electric guitar to soar, like a horse flying above the horizon.
The album thrives with conviction through its latter tracks; “Open Letter” is a confident confessional with a powerful drooping bridge, and “Revenge” is a powerful anthem. The end of the song is a reassuring ode to owning one’s identity, as Violet sings, “In heaven, I would still be queer, revenging in the name of love.”
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PC: Raul Buitrago