Molly Beanland - Night Dreams EP
"Night Dreams EP"
“Grand Theft” has an air of Summer Camp around it – the parpy synth bass and doe-eyed-but-venomous backing vocals are signature SC – but Beanland does make it her own with the addition of expertly pronounced chorus hooks (perhaps she shares an elocution tutor with Sophie Ellis-Bextor?) and a subtle funkiness. “Real Life” is a darker toned and more dance-oriented cut. The percussion is simple, there’s handclaps aplenty and sketchy scratching. “Tonight we are wild and free… this is real life,” she sings in the chorus – the lyrics aren’t all that cryptic, and in fact they’re refreshingly lucid, but this plays into the idea of this being her take on club dance bangers.
If you’re a fan of ‘80s power ballads, then chances are you’ll be pretty into what Molly Beanland has to offer. Cards on the table, it’s not really all that ‘80s – it’s that faux-retro sound that sounds like it’s from way back when, but lined up against something from Belinda Carlisle or Bonnie Tyler, there’s not all that many similarities (even aside from the obvious ones). It’s like seeing pictures of Zooey Deschanel and Katy Perry separately and thinking “golly, they’re basically twins!” and then putting them next to each other and wondering how you could ever have thought such a thing, and contemplating booking an eye test. It’s that kind of ‘‘80s’ synthpop. Think Sky Ferreira.
Make no mistake though, it’s still fabulous. Beanland’s actually channelling more of a Liz Fraser essence than a sham Kim Wilde/Carnes vibe; “Night Dreams” especially is akin to the buffed lustre of a Cocteau Twins B-side. It’s far poppier, but those swirling synth-vortexes and guitars swallowed by lagoons of reverb indicate a shoegaze core at the heart of the grandiose pop. It’s fairly representative of Beanland’s debut release. It’s a kind of merging of serene vocals and chunky, mournful gravity with the spaced-out, hypnagogic detonation; it’s like she’s performing to snow-capped rocks and low-level clouds while on top of Everest. It’s crisp, futuristic and graceful, like a ballroom chanteuse for the year 3014.
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