Vancouver-based alt-rockers Mother Mother are back with The Sticks, an eerie, dreary compilation making light of modern-day anxieties.
The Sticks makes for a pleasantly quirky, yet ominous listen. It blends frontman Ryan Guldermond’s lighthearted strumming with sibling Molly Guldermond’s signature, child-like voice over the darker undertones found within the lyrics. A dark chapter is then presented within the band’s anthology.
The album opens with “Omen,” a brief, delicate arrangement of piano harmonizing with a young boy singing, “from daffodils to acid rain” with the Guldermond siblings echoing in the background, “it’s alright, it’s okay, I’ll just look the other way.” The band is making it clear that they are seriously not enjoying the direction society is taking. Ending with an ever-ominous crescendo of strings, only cut to sharp silence, “Omen” proves itself an eerie note to start on.
The band delivers on their first single, “Let’s Fall in Love,” finding strength in fluid yet clean and concise riffs, somewhat reminiscent of older singles like “O My Heart” or even “Touch Up.” Once again bleeding feelings on love and lust, Ryan makes good of the seduction in his voice as he sings, “Mommy did it, addy did it, the funny little monkeys in the zoo do it.” I couldn’t help but feel love and sex were being confused for each other, while simultaneously thinking they were one in the same as Ryan ends with, “only the unlucky do it.”
The band continues to toy with emotions on “Dread in my Heart,” an acoustic piece only accompanied by lead vocalist Ryan with accompanied harmonies by backup vocalists Jasmin Parkin and Molly. Leaving for a lighthearted yet concisely crafted ode to succumbing to the little fatalist voice in your head telling you everything you don’t want to hear, and the ultimate desire to learn how to think positively.
Mother Mother continue their existential crisis with “Infinidecimal,” reflecting on how perceptions of big and small are so contrived, especially considering how small we all are. Maybe that’s it. Ryan sings he’s “feeling like a big thing” as if the ever-growing obsession of vanity is truly worth little value, but in the end nothing matters, right? This continued confessional of indulgence continues with, “Happy,” bringing into question the meaning of “happy.” The listener is lulled into a catatonic state as Ryan croons that happiness is a good fuck on drugs, as it is cleansing to the soul, obtaining the highest form of happiness at climax.
The continued raw comparison of love and lust becomes thematic not only through the album but the band’s anthology. The Sticks presents itself as an emotionally heavy album. A little sad at times, but often paired with feathery vocal harmonies and seemingly effortlessly cool accompaniment on guitar creating a complex compilation reminding the listener that just as everything begins it also ends.
