Psych has always been a genre that goes beyond personal experience and seeks something more metaphysical. This approach goes a long way in separating the listener from the familiar and comfortable into something that transcends memory and time. It’s a style firmly rooted in feelings and vibes. But while such elements can attract many listeners, they can also strip away emotion and endearment. Such is not the case with Pomegranate, the latest offering from Tess Parks.
Raised in Toronto for the better part of her life, Parks moved to London where she took up art and music. After signing to indie mogul Alan McGee’s now-defunct label, 359 Music, Parks instantly began creating a name for herself in the psych scene. Parks’ ability to be equally vulnerable and alluring helped set her apart from other mid ’00s psych revival acts.
The surprise twist on Pomegranate is how Tess Parks swaps out the mysterious for vulnerability.
From a songwriting perspective, Parks’ lyrics have always featured a layer of transparency. But from the opening track, Pomegranate feels much more weathered and road-tested. “I woke up today knowing I’m not going to change the world and I feel fine,” she croons above layers of ’60s flutes and organ. That line of reluctant triumph tells a story of someone who has been through hell and back and lived to tell about it.
She further expands upon that sentiment, albeit sarcastically, in the follow-up track, “California’s Dreaming.” The lyrics feel almost vitriolic, at least in terms of how we choose to ignore the bad in the world as long as the sun shines. However, Parks saves the mood by never punching down or reveling in misery for too long. That certain quality and mindset inadvertently questions the projected image of many artists of the psych rock scene.
Pomegranate transcends vibes and aesthetics by presenting Tess Parks as a human, not just an artist.
That shift in perspective makes the record so interesting. As with most artists of a certain ilk, we tend to glorify pessimism, especially in a genre firmly rooted in the visuals. But what kind of scars does that leather jacket cover? Do those sunglasses hide eyes red with tears? I love fuzzy guitars, gothic organ drones, and hypnotic rhythms, but that doesn’t mean the artist can’t be introspective and thoughtful.
In the southern-flavored “Koalas” and psychedelic “Lemon Poppy,” Parks paints a picture of both atheists and religious sleepwalking through life, living for their beliefs or lack thereof. But stripping away the image, they have more in common than they care to admit. At our core, we’re all just people trying to make the best of our lives. They could have better lives if they would put pettiness away and celebrate the here and now.
Sonically speaking, Tess Parks doesn’t reinvent the wheel on Pomegranate but fine-tunes her strengths.
Her somewhat optimistic lyrics provide a perfect contrast to the often melancholy aura of the musicianship. The reverb-laden guitars and funeral dirge keys make for a great vessel for her vocal drawl. While there are plenty of other points of production seasoning, especially the strings and oscillation, Pomegranate is the tightest record of Parks’ career. Outside of the spoken word vocals of “Charlie Potato,” she saves her most intense experimentation for “Running Home To Sing” and the closing track, “Surround.”
Overall, this record doesn’t try to challenge the listener with overly complex compositions or unorthodox production. Pomegranate doesn’t ask you to set fire to a church, government building, or your elders. It’s more about an artist refining her identity and growth as a person. Tess Parks is simply encouraging you to let off the accelerator, crank the windows down, and try to enjoy the world for what it is. Like Pomegranate, it is a combination of ethereal beauty and pain.
Pomegranate is available on Fuzz Club and Hand Drawn Dracula.