Pool Kids' third album, Easier Said Than Done, shimmers with emotional clarity and courage. Adrenalizing and irresistible, it brings the dynamism of the band’s live show into the studio, showcasing a style that's unmistakably their own. Pool Kids first started playing on Tallahassee's house show circuit. The band earned a fan in Paramore's Hayley Williams with their debut album, 2018's Music to Practice Safe Sex To. After they filled out to a four-piece -- Andy Anaya on guitar, Nicolette Alvarez on bass, Caden Clinton on drums, and Christine Goodwyne on guitar and vocals -- their 2022 self-titled record netted critical acclaim with its lush, high-contrast mixture of pop, emo, and math rock. They've shared stages with The Mountain Goats, PUP, Beach Bunny, and La Dispute. They hold fast to their DIY principles: Anyone can do what Pool Kids do. Anyone can start a band. For Easier Said Than Done, Pool Kids worked with producer Mike Vernon Davis (Foxing, Great Grandpa). They funded the record themselves, and spent five weeks recording in Seattle. To save money during sessions, they stayed with friends, in motels, and slept on the floor of the studio. "We did a lot of searching, playing each song a million different ways and deciding which one sounded the best," says Goodwyne. With the completed record in hand, the band signed to Epitaph. On the thundering "Tinted Windows," Goodwyne grits her teeth at the way spending months on tour and missing important milestones can stress close relationships. "Exit Plan" memorializes the experience of saying goodbye to friends at the end of a string of shows, knowing those powerful bonds may never feel the same again. On "Bad Bruise," Goodwyne makes a bid for understanding: "Pretty please, empathy / Got me on my knees," she sings while the band closes ranks around her. Powerful collectivity rings through Easier Said Than Done -- in the dynamic interplay between Goodwyne and Anaya's guitars, in Alvarez's gravitational basslines, in Clinton's whirling drum patterns. Pool Kids lock together into a unified force, propelling themselves forward into hard-won release. Easier Said Than Done impresses one of the most important reminders anyone can hear: You don’t have to do anything in this world alone.
In making their third record, Hex Key, Mamalarky spent entire seasons hunched over guitars and obscure synthesizers, their long hair sweeping over strings or covering concentrated eyes. The band recorded takes in between the sounds of passing ice cream trucks and yowling stray cats in their LA home studio, a tight but prolific living room. Hex Key is a document of perseverance, of going for the gold while somehow remaining totally aware of one’s own vulnerabilities. These effervescent, swirling songs chronicle vivid desires crashing against real-life limitations but finding a way to keep burning anyway. That tension between anguish and resilience, between performed aloofness and brutal honesty, drives the music, imbues it with a compelling intensity. Over the last 8 years, the quartet’s members have lived in Austin, Atlanta, and Los Angeles, and have established a bond that they acknowledge is rare. “We have an unmatched level of trust in each other,” drummer Dylan Hill says. “There is no air of professionalism. It's literally just four friends hanging out and getting to the bottom of something.” Given their closeness, Mamalarky are able to fight like family, not necessarily with each other, but for the music, to make it the best it can be. Whereas their last album, Pocket Fantasy, was exploratory and free-flowing, the songs on Hex Key are the result of absolute devotion and fine tuning. It’s the kind of attention to detail that can only happen when the four bandmates are working alone together, uninterrupted by producers, engineers, or any outside influences. “It’s never ‘kick your feet up, let’s see what happens,” guitarist and singer Livvy Bennett says. “We’re always staring each other deeply in the eyes saying ‘Let’s make this next take incredible.’ We never settle.” The band is so committed to their craft that Hill even recorded the drums for “#1 Best of All Time” amidst an intense bout of poison ivy. The determination he felt in the moment manifested itself in the song’s frantic-but-focused percussion, he says.