Since “Sleepyhead” dropped all the way back in 2008, Passion Pit has been a divisive act. Frontman Michael Angelakos’ knack for sugary hooks and yelping vocals has attracted a large share of naysayers, most of who declare that Passion Pit is just a thinly veiled pop group marketed for hipster kids. But beneath the bright sheen and catchy choruses of Passion Pit songs, there has always been an undercurrent of darkness and anxiety. Take, for instance, the band’s early hit “The Reeling.” While its peppy chorus has undoubtedly inspired many college dorm singalongs, a closer inspection of the lyrics reveals an existential crisis of sorts.
Passion Pit further honed in on this sense of nervous energy with their 2012 sophomore album Gossamer. While that release likely didn’t win over any detractors, it was considered a minor masterpiece by those attuned to the album’s marriage of irresistible hooks with darkly introspective lyrics. However, on Gossamer’s last track “Where We Belong,” Passion Pit explored new sonic directions. All the frantic energy of the preceding songs segued into an almost Bjork-ish slice of slow-burning electronica. The lyrics detailed singer Michael Angelakos’ own suicide attempt with brutal honesty (“I’m lifted up out of the crimson tub / the bath begins to drain / and from the floor he prays away my pain”). In the song’s final minute, everything climaxed into a heart-stopping symphonic arrangement in which Angelakos howled:
“Never did I think that I’d be lifted to the whitest cloud, Never did I ever think I’d find out all the things I doubt, It’s hard to keep on living when your heart weighs about a million pounds, All I’ve ever wanted was to be happy and make you proud”
“Where We Belong” offered a shattering perspective on mental illness and was, quite frankly, one of the most breathtaking moments of music released in 2012. It also indicated that Passion Pit’s next album might be Angelakos’ own Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy—a step away from the hyperactive catchiness that had previously defined the band’s sound.
Fast forward to 2015, and Passion Pit has just released their third LP Kindred, an album which creates a dilemma for this long-time fan. Rather than continue from the place “Where We Belong” left off, Kindred is just as glossy and energetic as its predecessors, but without any of the darkness which had previously made Passion Pit so compelling. What we’re left with- anthemic choruses, earworm melodies, and multi-tracked vocals- aren’t necessarily a bad combination, but it’s hard to get too excited about these songs. Worse, when the slower tracks are allowed to stretch and breathe, they lack the majesty of older songs such as “Moths Wings” or “Seaweed Song.”
The best Passion Pit songs have always been incessantly irritating, but in a way that actually makes them rather endearing, like a pesky little dog that won’t stop trying to win your affection. Fortunately, Kindred’s best tracks still have that quality. You’d need a heart of stone to resist the buoyancy of “Until We Can’t (Let’s Go)”, even if it sounds tailor-made for an ESPN commercial. Nothing on this album sounds bad, but it all just feels a bit safe. Angelakos is a helluva songwriter, and I’d love to hear what happens if he experimented with song structure and sonic textures a bit more.
Angelakos has explained in interviews that he’s in a much healthier place now than when he penned prior albums, which is reflected in the lyrics’ newfound optimism. But too often, the lyrics bypass optimism into banality, which isn’t a good look for a band whose sound was often knocked for being too saccharine to begin with.
As a longtime fan of Passion Pit, Kindred leaves me conflicted. Angelakos has always been upfront about his battle with mental illness, and I’m thrilled to read in interviews that he is doing well. I wish him nothing but a lifetime of love and happiness. Hopefully on future releases, he’ll channel his contentment into a more adventurous album.
Rating: 3/5