Harmonicas and Harmony

Danielle Clough reviews Slow Pulp and Babehoven, finding that waiting lines can be shorter than expected when you're ahead of the curve.

By Danielle CloughOctober 21, 2023

SLOW PULP: Yard Tour with BABEHOVEN, Teragram Ballroom, Los Angeles, October 18, 2023.

Two weeks ago, I had my roommate scramble to Amoeba to purchase Slow Pulp’s latest album, Yard, for me. While I pleaded for the hasty pickup in fear that they’d instantly run out of copies, apparently the Amoeba cashier had no idea who Slow Pulp was. The Chicago-based indie rock band recently announced new dates to their tour as it continues to sell out, which left me wondering: How did he not know them?

When I arrived at the venue, teenage girls buzzed around me. A quartet lazily smoked cigarettes and joked about wearing *insert random boy’s name* as though he was a luxury brand. The line was short. I expected longer—it was a sold out show.

About an hour after doors, Babehoven, the indie rock duo of Maya Bon and Ryan Albert, emerged and opened with “Break the Ice.” The first track from their 2022 album Light Moving Time, it culminated with wuthering, despairing lyrics: “I feel sick sick sick sick sick sick / Stabilize / You got sick sick sick sick sick sick sick / I lost everything I loved.” Bon, adorned in a celebratory “Happy Birthday!” crown, a Barbie-pink ’60s-inspired mini dress, and her acoustic guitar, stood directly in-between my line of sight and the color-changing lights. The obstruction of the sunset-tinted light flared behind her, flirting with lyrics from their unreleased song “Birdseye.” Bon was illuminated, and so were we.

The venue filled up between Babehoven’s and Slow Pulp’s sets. You could hear the teeth of dedicated barricaders chattering and the murmurs of a ready crowd. The roar of the electric guitar brought teeth and talk alike to a halt when that familiar riff began. Slow Pulp’s vocalist and guitarist Emily Massey, guitarist Henry Stoehr, bassist Alex Leeds, and drummer Teddy Matthews, with help from their auxiliary multi-instrumentalist Kyle, led the crowd into the beginning of “Slugs,” the fourth song on their newest album, Yard. It’s moody and yearning, filled with Massey’s raspy vocals, shoegazey riffs, and admitting lyrics: “That I want you despite my defense / Trust in all the things I never said / That I’m sorry, I haven’t been honest.” Slow Pulp slyly manages the feeling of repetition—of the agains—well, by calling upon the return to a partner, to a feeling, to a riff.

In the middle of their set, Massey’s pedal stopped working. She laughed, told the crowd that we were having a technical difficulty, swore a bit, and put down her Gibson. Her arms connected like puzzle pieces behind her back, and she began to sway as the opening bassline of the 2018 single “Steel Birds” carried her. “Steel Birds” collects each instrument every few bars as Massey softly indicts those who nonchalantly disregard lovers: “When will you tell her? / You’re just a collector / You’ll never love her.” The crowd swayed alongside her, with nodding heads and a few signs of the horns from elated fans. Superfans barricaded and jumped, while casual Slow Pulp–likers hummed to the melody.

As “Steel Birds” quieted, Bon from Babehoven was invited to join Massey onstage for “Falling Apart,” from their 2020 album Moveys. Everyone knew this one. Raspy and angelic, Massey and Bon harmonized while hitting their open palms like a game of rock, paper, scissors—grounding the crowd in the self, or ourselves, or them. “Falling Apart” aches. Its soft vocals and warm underlining violin boil with the vulnerability of loss: “You were so good at that / You’re one in a million now / You don’t want to take the time.” With Bon’s added vocals, their performance promised a return to trusting the self. Bon and Massey smiled and hugged, whispering gratitudes when the song ended.

Massey’s pedal remained unreliable. Murphy’s Law—if it can go wrong, it will go wrong—crystallized, and she continued on without a second thought. The hiccups felt purposeful, almost natural. Slow Pulp knit their lyric and instrumental transitions together, opting to avoid small talk with the crowd and get straight to the music. Which is why no one seemed to notice the hardware failure; in fact, it was heeded with giggles and encouragement to return to their set. They continued with fan favorites “Cramps” (a song about periods) and “Broadview” (a song about falling in love again, accompanied by the harmonica), and ended with “At Home” (a song creeping with disappointment and the unhelpful nostalgia of love). They looped us—moving from one song to the next tangling folk with indie with heavy thrashes on the drums, while creating instrumental and lyrical synergy by shorting harmonic resolution. I experienced delayed gratification over and over again.

They came out for an encore (which Massey hinted to earlier with a wink) and concluded the night with the song “Montana.” À la Slow Pulp, “Montana” is filled with folk rhythms and some self-referential, more self-deprecating lyrics like “I'm a contest / I’m a loser with no chance / Hold my hand / Again / Again.” Then Massey pulls out the harmonica, sliding her hand along the comb. The rest of the band jammed, hitting every note possible to achieve a shoegaze musical cacophony. The lights flared up and the show ended.

There’s nothing more iconic than walking offstage post-harmonica. It felt like a promise for more, for the agains.

¤

Photo of Slow Pulp courtesy of the contributor.

LARB Short Take live event reviews are published in partnership with the nonprofit Online Journalism Project and the Independent Review Crew.