The Convenience
ABOUT
“It really was super natural”, laughs Duncan Troast, explaining how he and Nick Corson came to form The Convenience, and though he means it was as organic as breathing, the music these two conjure is from an alternate reality. Pulling from a pastiche of 80’s sounds and their own rolodex of future pop flourishes, their new album Accelerator sounds like a late-night disco party on a distant outpost, a sea of dancing bodies illuminated by an alien moon. The titular track, “Accelerator (Pts I + II)”, sets the pace of the record, its rubbery bassline and silky vocals an undeniable dopamine injection. It’s a song that fantasizes about losing control, inviting someone to take the wheel, “in a romantic way”, they insist.
“Fake Roses” builds over a pulsing kick drum, glittering synths sparkling around Corson’s cool and steady voice before a digital orchestra and stuttering vocal samples overtake the song.“It’s a state of the union of our lives”, a reflection on sobriety, lingering doubt, and coming to terms with the place you’re in. While some songs were a puzzle-like piecing together of disparate ideas, “Kiss Me In Heaven” arrived fully formed after a night out, a kaleidoscopic swirl of synth bass and delicate guitar arpeggios, its lush chorus a sonic revelation.
“I had a hard time learning how to do things the right way, and just wanted to make something, just make a mess”, says Corson, thinking back on his earliest experiments with songwriting and production. You can hear that spirit in the brief noise collage that opens “Saturday’s Child”, but the immaculate pop song that follows makes it clear - whatever they’re doing is working. “We failed so much”, he insists, but their striking debut refutes that.
At its core, Accelerator is a celebration of friendship, and the transportative power of music. It’s an ode to the joy of dancing, of loving just to have loved, and becoming who you are.
“Fake Roses” builds over a pulsing kick drum, glittering synths sparkling around Corson’s cool and steady voice before a digital orchestra and stuttering vocal samples overtake the song.“It’s a state of the union of our lives”, a reflection on sobriety, lingering doubt, and coming to terms with the place you’re in. While some songs were a puzzle-like piecing together of disparate ideas, “Kiss Me In Heaven” arrived fully formed after a night out, a kaleidoscopic swirl of synth bass and delicate guitar arpeggios, its lush chorus a sonic revelation.
“I had a hard time learning how to do things the right way, and just wanted to make something, just make a mess”, says Corson, thinking back on his earliest experiments with songwriting and production. You can hear that spirit in the brief noise collage that opens “Saturday’s Child”, but the immaculate pop song that follows makes it clear - whatever they’re doing is working. “We failed so much”, he insists, but their striking debut refutes that.
At its core, Accelerator is a celebration of friendship, and the transportative power of music. It’s an ode to the joy of dancing, of loving just to have loved, and becoming who you are.
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