Kim Deal
Nobody Loves You More
4AD
Off on a sentimental journey of sorts, reliving parts of her past on her eclectic and intriguing debut solo album Nobody Loves You More, Kim Deal is now a single mother of indie-rock invention. She’s earned a busman’s holiday, having nurtured the gloriously weird caterwaul and creative godhead of The Pixies and gleefully raised The Breeders on a diet of playful charm and delightfully skewed guitar-pop experimentalism. The underrated Amps didn’t suffer from neglect, either.
Deal has gone lone wolf before, as evidenced by her somewhat forgotten 2013 self-released, seven-inch vinyl series. An extension of that experience, considering some of these songs were conceived as long ago as 2011, Nobody Loves You More revels in childhood escapism, but also dredges up painful memories. The shuffling, starry-eyed “Summerland,” with its flood of lush, flowing strings, bathes in wondrous orchestral pop moonlight and nostalgia, daydreaming of Sinatra and Burt Bacharach and family vacations in Florida. All lazy, beachy strum and burnished, island horns, the summery “Coast” exudes Jimmy Buffett warmth, its lighthearted, coming-of-age vibe roller skating in slow-motion to Blondie’s “The Tide is High” down an imaginary boardwalk.
Moving on, but taking its own sweet time, Nobody Loves You More enters its blue period with the affecting “Are You Mine,” as Deal wistfully reflects on her mother’s dementia in a reverie of gentle cosmopolitan country sway and Hawaiian pedal steel twilight. Somehow blurring the years separating breezy ‘60s pop and the Throwing Muses on an alluring “Wish I Was,” Deal also eases into the sweet title track, an arresting baroque beauty with a brassy big-band splash midway through that feels like a friendly embrace. It’s all very sophisticated, melodic stuff, but Deal’s still full of arty mischief.
Glitchy and buzzing, the psychedelic “Crystal Breath” marches to a different drummer, its infectious robotic funk strutting assertively across a dreamy disco dance floor. Awakening with invigorating electric guitar strum, “Disobedience” is rousing, anthemic rock defiance throwing a youthful tantrum, while the jarring, yet contagious, “Big Ben Beat” freaks out with flashes of distortion and calculated purpose. “A Good Time Pushed” cools everything down with a zephyr of yearning, indie-pop sparkle and vapor blowing in from the direction of Ivy’s air-conditioned penthouse apartment, and it’s the perfect ending to perhaps the most interesting and absorbing chapter in Deal’s story. Let’s hope there’s a sequel.
