The cover art of Public Practice‘s debut full-length album, Gentle Grip, is intriguing. It’s an abstract / pop art image of a woman’s head, eyes closed, lips and teeth parted in either a breathy sigh or ready for an embrace…and there’s that hand. A right hand with fingernails painted to match the woman’s lipstick has a (gentle?) grip on the back of where her neck would be. Is it the woman’s hand, giving herself a soothing neck massage? Or is it someone else’s, pushing her forward to something she wants but was hesitant to embrace without a little help?
I might be making too much of it, but the image is as intriguing as the album. The opening synth-bass and echoed guitars of “Moon” immediately hurl you into Blade Runner territory while singer / lyricist Samantha York sings of leaving this world for better things, but thinking things might not be better in the off-world colonies after all. Drummer Scott Rosenthal mixes hypnotic floor tom beats with wild full-kit drum fills to jar you out of the mesmerism that York can expertly cast upon the unwary (or, often, more than willing) listener.
The contrasting upbeat pace of “Cities” is a delightful surprise, reflecting the bustle of city life as York sings about the dark sides of some places needing to be brought to light. “Disposable” was one of the first songs released from Public Practice (in October 2019) – and with good reason. Drew Citron‘s bass thumps in your blood and Vince McClelland‘s guitar work is like a shuriken spinning toward you with multiple points. York sings about being careful what you wish for and how “You have it or you don’t.”
The tempo of “Each Other” is wonderfully bumpy and jagged. The whole feel of “Underneath” is undeniably sexy thanks to Citron’s excellent bass line and the vocal mix she and York. Rosenthal puts down a slick Blondie-like beat and McClelland’s guitar work is deceptively tight. “See You When I Want To” is a fun track – as the whole thing, including York’s lyrics, was improvised. “My Head” would’ve been a disco classic in another era. The song’s about creating a dance club in your head to tune out the 24-hour barrage of noise coming at us, so it’s perfect.
The first single off Gentle Grip, “Compromised,” is about the rough road of moral choices. “You don’t want to live a lie, you don’t want to pick a side, you don’t want to compromise. You don’t want to live a life, but it’s easy,” York sings while the rest of the band just cooks throughout the whole track. “I thought this would all fade away. Didn’t know you would stay so angry. I thought it was just a passing phase. Sure we could crawl to an understanding,” York, puzzled, sings on “Understanding” – a sharp post-punk track with McClelland’s guitar ranting like a drunk on a street corner (and I mean that in the best possible sense – McClelland’s mini-solos sound like mini-stories within the story of York’s lyrics.).
In a clever twist, the song “Leave Me Alone” might be the sexiest song on the record. The groove of it slinks around the room like a femme fatale convincing a hard-boiled detective to take the case of her missing husband. It’s the album cover in aural form. McClelland saves some of this wildest guitar work for “How I Like It” – which he also sings. It sounds like he stuck a Tesla coil in his guitar. “Hesitation,” the album’s closer, on the other hand, repeats the same three notes and creates a post-punk (and slightly goth?) banger.
There aren’t a lot of bands out there willing to experiment like Public Practice, which is a shame because the time is ripe for experimentation. We need intriguing records like Gentle Grip that nudge us toward things we want (not material things, mind you, but things like healthy relationships, self-care, and joy) when we need that guidance the most.
Keep your mind open.
[I’d lose my head if you subscribed.]
