What does it take to make an album? Dedication, time, love and maybe some blood, sweat, and tears too. For Rubblebucket the ingredient list is a good deal more different, matching their quirky artpop style. The band’s frontwoman Kalmia Traver and co-founder Alex Toth list their own separate recipe for what made Rubblebucket’s new album Year of the Banana come into existence. Toth lists “3.5 grams of psilocybin, 0.5 grams mdma, hella tears, strong desire to have less desire”, while Traver notes “Garlic, Secret hiding spaces, Personal sacred geometry, Rollerblading, Cool wind at night, and Camaraderie.”
Sure enough it might be hard to hear where each individual element comes into play on the record, but Year of the Banana is an album of odd ingredients that stew together to make a hotpot of bright flashy pop that blasts like chunky slices of of Montreal’s more sugary output. “Go All The Way With Me” is a shameless take on Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start The Fire”, Traver listing off a barrage of words in the verse before it turns into a sort of 80s power pop workout. Elsewhere “Stella the Begonia” is a severely likeable opening track complete with punchy brass and invigorating pep aplenty, while “Moving Without Touching” is like a STRFKR cut with added rhythmic swagger. It’s all syrupy as hell, but if you’re looking for a sugar rush, there are worse places to turn.
Take a look at Traver’s lyrics or read into the backstory of the album though, and the sweetness does sour a little. An album written as her and Toth began a tumultuous separation odyssey that included mediators, hypnotherapists, psycho-therapists, life coaches, business coaches, and even a misplaced proposal at one point. Taken from poetry written during this period, Traver careens between love and disconnection: “I’m not afraid to get too attached,” she asserts on the quasi jazzy funk of “Rattlesnake” while on “Boomerang” she pines, calling out “can you fly back again?” as synths and horns sway behind her. Aforementioned “Stella the Begonia” finds bombastic invigoration as she declares “When I see the way you’re leaning into living, it makes me want to lean towards living too” with a genuinely inspiring gusto.
Thankfully the story ultimately comes with a happy ending (Traver and Toth remain close friends and were inspired by fans and their live touring ensemble to keep making music in the studio together), and the album’s demeanor matches this. It’s a fun and joyful record at its heart, even though it plunges into sad sentiments and more melancholic numbers (the swooning “The Sorrow That Comes With Loving You”, the sultry but playful “Morning Glory Blanket”). Never ones to let a moment go uncoloured, Toth and Traver fill the canvas, painting with sometimes gleeful abandon and the brightest hues they can muster. Traver even throws in a made up word (“Mablinducene”) at the end of the record, because why not?
It’s downside is that the album is undeniably front loaded, and becomes a bit too much if you’re not entirely in need for candied and extroverted time; come the nearly nine minute closer “Forest Bathing”, it’s great to see the band spread out and dunk into extended ambience, but staying connected and fully attentive by that point does ask more than it should. There are moments that even when the band are churning away a sprightly mix of drums, synths, horns, and strings, something feels missing, like the band are caught in a stasis and not able to pinpoint the next destination on the map. Maybe Year of the Banana needed more cool wind at night, less hella tears, or just a different amount of drugs. For what it’s worth, this album follows a family recipe, and for some it’s going to make for a delicious meal while others might not care for the personal taste.
