PiNKSTON

Beth Clardy Lewis has the type of brooding, tough-girl vocals that are so easy to fall in love with. She sounds like a former tattooed punk girl that has grown up into an accidental rock siren, with an equal propensity for powerful intensity and shimmeringly pretty pop melodies. That is exactly the nexus that the Clardy Lewis-fronted Pinkston works on their debut EP: pop that doesn't trip over the genre's clichés and grinding, progressive rock that works up sweat, tethered together into five emotionally charged nuggets that catch in your brain but don't insult it. Pinkston doesn't write your ordinary two-and-a-half-minute pop/rock tunes, opting instead for dynamically nervy songwriting with experimental and complex tendencies, a quality that might stem from the democratic, communal nature of their songwriting. They eschew verse-chorus-verse redundancies and layer the music with luminous textures and bright production touches. Ben Burt's drumming is a driving presence in the music, stomping out thunderous bass rhythms that give the music a huge, hollow sound, while the dual-guitar attack of Josh Daugherty and Ean Parsons wrench out rich textures from their instruments. It is pop music that took a spin into space, happened upon Beach Boys harmonies, decided rock & roll was where it's at, and landed back on earth as a curiously compelling mutant that retains all of its sing-along appeal but also a mysterious potency. There are hooks galore sprinkled liberally throughout the EP, and they snap out of the crushing, guitar-driven rock soundscapes created by the band. The songs, however, are not defined by their hooks, as is so often the case, but by the invigorating rumble of the music. One of the songs on the album sufficiently describes Pinkston's brand of pop— "Big." It is big in every way: ideas, execution, sound.