Twenty-five years is a long time to leave a conversation unfinished. The Autocollants, a bedroom pop quartet whose late-’90s singles and a 1999 Shelflife compilation earned them a small, devoted following, spent a long weekend together writing and came out with ‘Hidden Smile,’ their first full-length. It sounds like friends picking up mid-sentence, with no apology for the gap and no attempt to mask over it.
The opener, “Azurite,” sets the temperature: unhurried, a little wistful, more interested in a good melody than a grand entrance. Then “Every Social Interaction” arrives with a quicker pulse. Ed Mazzucco and Tim Morris trade strummed guitar figures over Dwayne Palasek’s forward-leaning drums, and Laura Watling sings about the small agonies of being around other people in a voice so bright that the awkwardness almost passes for a party. The cheerfulness is a disguise, and a clever one. Plenty of pop songs claim to be about anxiety. Few let the music stay this sunny while the words squirm.
Watling carries much of the record’s weight, and not only as a singer. She plays bass, percussion and ocarina, and writes every lyric. Her vocals have lost none of their charm since the 7” days in the mid-nineties, a plainspoken sweetness that never reaches for drama. On “Version 1” and “Dirty Clean,” she slips between observation and confession so quickly that a listener may not notice which one just happened. “Situate Me” and “Where I Am Right Now” circle a related question, the odd business of locating oneself in a life that has kept moving. Neither offers an answer. Both are better for it.
Economy is a habit here, and a good one. “Not Enough” lasts barely a minute and a half, which suits a title that sounds like an admission, and “Song For My Band” is a small, affectionate toast to the three people who made it possible. Sentimental? A little. Earned? Entirely. After a quarter century of friendship, a song like that is simply a fact stated out loud.
Palasek’s trumpet is the album’s loveliest surprise. It never takes over, only appears where a warm color is needed, and the effect is like a window opened in a small room. Add Watling’s ocarina, and “April” and “Good As Yesterday” take on a faintly homemade glow, the sound of people grabbing whatever instrument is nearby because the song needs it. “South” stretches out a bit, swaying while the guitars drift and never lose the thread. “Bossa” ends the album with an easy, rolling lilt that tips its hat to the title without overdoing it.
Everything here, from the writing to the artwork, came from the band, with Mazzucco handling the mix and master at Shelflife Studios. The record sounds like one set of hands made it. Clean, not sterile. Close, not cramped. Nothing fussed over, nothing careless. It’s a hard balance, and here, it sounds completely natural.
Fans of the old singles will recognize the family resemblance immediately, and some may get a lump in the throat. Newcomers don’t need the history. The hooks land on first contact, the lyrics hold up under a closer look, and the whole record has the warmth of a band that never really stopped being friends. Pop music has plenty of comebacks staged for attention. This one sounds like a reunion held for the pleasure of it, and that pleasure is contagious.
Learn more links:
The Autocollants
Shelflife Records
Precious Recordings of London
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