Pavo Pavo - Mystery Hour
Back in 2008 MGMT were figureheads for ‘dream pop’, a brand of wistful offerings with breathless or distant vocals which added to an air of melancholia, alchemised by synth-driven, washed out arrangements with enough guitars to satisfy the polemic factions of ‘pop’ and ‘indie’.
Inevitably, and predictably, many followed in their wake, including Empire Of The Sun and Niki & The Dove, Tame Impala being the current kings of the playground. Often the music of dream pop is so effect-driven that the lyrics get either lost in the mix or are frankly of secondary importance. At surface level, Pavo Pavo’s sophomore effort is made up of similar stuff. But context is everything.
Ostensibly a five-piece but creatively a duo, the Brooklyn outfit’s debut album Young Narrator In The Breakers was released back in 2016 to a positive response. Oliver Hill and Eliza Bagg are the key driving force of the band and were dating for some time but fragmented as a couple at some point after the release of the first album. Rather than let that affect the band, it galvanized Hill into writing the bulk of Mystery Hour. It surely takes some strength of character to be in the vicinity of an ex, let alone work with them. To then lay bare your emotions for said ex, then the band and then the wider world to see, is inspiring. It’s been done before of course (it’s still nothing compared to the gestation of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours) but it’s no less remarkable.
Not only that, but there is little moroseness here. Whilst lyrically rooted in pure human emotion with no punches being spared (the near-opening salvo of ‘I realise love is to see every side of you, but mon cheri, I’m designed to be unsatisfied’ is particularly poignant and sets the tone), musically the album’s eclecticism rarely channels anything but joy. The first song and title-track is awash with luscious strings and choir, then in immediate contrast Mon Cheri channels the grinding guitars of David Bowie’s ‘Fashion’, even including some superfluous but welcome ‘beep beeps’.
Easy dials back to wistfulness due to Bagg’s vocals, backed by sturdy drumming that’s out of kilter with the vibe of the song yet compliments it at the same time. ‘100 Years’ initially could be White Album-era Lennon: ‘such a f***ed up outcome when you’re near me’ Hill laments, before Bagg’s floating soprano skills (she actually is one) take over for the Byrdsy chorus, then winding guitars take centre stage as all elements clash. The highlight of the album, it’s a mini odyssey that’s over in three minutes but feels like twenty. Meanwhile, ‘Close To Your Ego’ is built around wobbling bass and depression-crunching guitar, and if stripped of Bagg’s by-now distinctive voice would sit comfortably on any of Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s albums.
‘Around Part 1’ is a gentle yet urgent stomper, 1920s music hall keys taking stage before seguing into ‘Part 2’, a woozy slice of anxious choir and distorted vocals-driven confusion. The pace slows right down for the final two tracks; ‘Statue Is A Man Inside’ and the sparse ‘Goldenrod’ are two sides of the same coin; the former defiant and the latter reflective in both tone and lyrics.
Both widescreen yet succinct, Mystery Hour is a record that encapsulates the intricacies and intimacies of a relationship as well as any that has come before. Managing to channel both joy and despair, as only being in love can do, it’s a bittersweet beauty that rewards multiple listens.
Acknowledging the befuddlement of one’s subconscious, it’s the most accurate representation of dream pop yet realised.