PyPy Sacred Times LP
Listening to the opener “Lonely Striped Rock” is a joyride through various genre influences that is rarely achieved. Philippe Clement’s bass line starts out the song, which sounds like a rubber tube being slapped. Simon Besré’s drums introduce Roy Vucino’s guitar, teasing along with chatter-y little chord sweeps, making way for Annie-Claude Deschênes matter-of-fact vocals. The whole thing sounds like KLEENEX/LILIPUT song, the illusion only to be shattered by the chorus: a stomp on the drive pedal, the band catapults into a crunchy, aggressive crust punk sound—drums really working here—then drops back into the same verse structure, and then what? Little interrupter raygun synth line! Ripping guitar solo? Yup, it has that, too. This song fucking drips cool and is full of surprises, which is the sentiment that I have for this band and album at large. PYPY (pronuced ππ) is from Montreal and put out this second album a decade after their debut Pagan Day, which had a more psych-rock sound, still at work on Sacred Times (mostly on the washed-out guitar lines) though otherwise arrangements here are much more concise. All of the songs could warrant a longer write-up, but near the top is “She’s Back” (a nod to Pagan Day’s “She’s Gone”?) with the undeniable catchiness of any clever pop song, suited to the PYPY soundscape, driving from the gate, and offering a haunting hook of “I don’t know where she’s been, but / She’s back.” I hope I don’t have to wait another decade for their next album. Tell your friends about this one, they’ll be happy.