Bay Faction’s self-titled album offers something for the Modern Baseball and not-quite-rock crowd. Bluesy grooves juxtapose against some seriously dark lyrics and the band try to wrap them all up in a catchy bundle. However, there are times when it strays too far towards the blues-rock formula and loses what makes it unique.
‘Bloody Nose’ opens the record in tinny, mid-tempo and toe-tapping fashion. The guitar cuts swishy and clangy riffs, with just enough distortion to qualify as a rock sound while the rhythm section keep a tight beat. The production gives it a sleepy, late-night car journey quality and there’s a warm emptiness that seems fitting for a drive home from the end of a university semester.
The real gem of Bay Faction is James McDermott’s vocal style. He’s a broody lounge-act that sounds indifferent to his feelings. It’s as if he doesn’t care whether the words come out perfectly but that you hear them for what they are. His north-eastern US nasal tones echo the J Mascis School of Not Giving A Flip.
As for the lyrics themselves: wow. It’s rare to hear such disturbing content against such a poppy backdrop. ‘Cutter’ focuses on the topic of self-harm and contains the lines: “There’s not much for you to explain when you put a gun in my mouth, pull the trigger, blow my skull wide open like broken window panes”.
What makes it so haunting is the way James rarely offers emotion. Where others would pour their heart out over these hand-crafted truths about the struggle of living, he states it plainly as the time of day. On ‘Sasquatch .22’, he bemoans a relationship. “She came over that night, we started having sex and it felt fine up until she fucking left”, he sings before the final verse tells us he’s going to kill himself in her car. Of course, it’s all practically hushed over sleepy, glittery guitar tones.
On the other hand, there are some recurring bluesy riffs that pepper the songs. It’s on ‘Captive Cows’ and ‘Beach Book’ that these are most apparent.
As the cymbals chime and put you in some smoky Boston bar on a wet Saturday night, the guitar is left to do its thing. Though they’re not quite solos, they meander around before going back behind the curtain while the verses take centre stage.
‘Casting Couch’ is the most rock-centric song on the album and leads into ‘Jasper Wildlife Assoc.’, which closes the record. Both songs hint at something with more energy and more traditional rock sensibilities.
It’s telling that these more aggressive moments are the least interesting. Where Bay Faction shine are where they’re different; overlaying smooth and sparse guitar with depressingly vivid lyrics. Cranking up the noise just edges them closer towards blandness.
Bay Faction’s self-titled debut is a short album that tries to balance both ends of the scale. One side is the mellow indie sound of regret and the other is something like soft-rock. They’re occasionally allowed to mingle but, ultimately, the record is only partially satisfying as a coherent sound.
ASHLEY PARTRIDGE