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Rating: 5.2 | 0 User Reviews | Send to Friend
The Besties assault their listener with a calculated cuteness that's equal parts endearing and exasperating. Lead singer Marisa Bergquist moans conversational lyrics overtop guitar driven melodies reminiscent of Tegan and Sarah equipped with a bottomless perkoset prescription. The comparison would seem favorable enough; however, the Brooklyn bred Bffs fail to add anything novel or notable to the typically tortured genre of ultra-feminine pop. Love and longing remain key topics of discussion but where Tegan and Sarah atone for their lyrical sins with impossibly catchy choruses, The Besties shy from refrains in favor of trite narratives, ostensibly deemed too engaging to be interrupted by a hook. The singular exception is the album's oddly placed eighth track "St. Francis," sounding peculiarly substantial amid its largely flimsy company. It begins with the same promise as the albums other tracks, only it delivers on it. A heavy guitar lead establishes itself amid the deluge of crystalline pop (pop torrent) and settles into that same anecdotal format. Just when the track seems doomed to flat line like the previous seven, it redeems itself with a punchy, but appropriately moody chorus, complete with well-executed clapping. "St. Francis," is the solitary song on the album that comes across as complete, and it's promising. What's particularly noteworthy about it though, is that it's beyond compelling a person to listen to the final, disappointing three tracks "St. Francis" proves as their buoyant lead- ins suggest, that The Besties have it in them. They just need a little practice.
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