St. Tropez

When you're working with a name as ethereally suggestive as St. Tropez you have two options bro. First, sound as far away from something you would expect to be related to what your mind thinks when you think St. Tropez, because you're a dick. Or the other is to sound efuckingxactly like that feeling you're wearing around your neck like a freshly laundered collar from a shirt that's unbuttoned at the top three bottoms, untucked and adorned with miniature palm trees bro.

St. Tropez sound like they're not wearing shoes.

St. Tropez sound like they all just met on one of those Contiki cruises that all the young Fucks are doing nowadays, with their tinders and their polyamorous relationships and their Valtrex.

St. Tropez are the Abercrombie & Fitch commercial for the socially awkward, but on drugs.

St. Tropez are beachy and hilly and mountainous, and a perfect excuse for wearing a bright plaid patterned bucket hat and complaining about accidentally forgetting to be miserable.

St. Tropez are fucking White Denim, but holy shit they're seriously all on different drugs.

1. The bass is so fucking deliciously popping out of each track, it sounds like Pink Floyd sped up and then slowed down again.
2. Vocally, there's so much Radiohead-y Beatles-ish dream sequence cum all over everything I probably mistook the guttural throat coooo's I've been throat cooing for text message notifications. I mean, I know there's cum everywhere, but I'm weeble wobbling on my couch with headphones on so why the Fuck would you trust me anyway?
3. Drumwise, I hate to bring up another Pink Floyd reference, but seriously, Nick Mason himself would nod approvingly to the tom tom gallops this muthafucker is thumping out on "Seasick". Dude is beyond a talented asshole.
4. The guitars and the keys seem to jack each other off in just the most complimentary way, it's like with each stroke of the other's instrument they're getting closer and closer to the musical equivalent of tantric sex bro. I'm turned on, sure, but I'm also fascinated, which explains the mouth hanging open and my eyes drying up because I keep forgetting to blink.

So it's the aforementioned White Denim and Pink Floyd and Beatles and Radiohead, but holy shit there's all this Kejnu on "Maybe Nothing", and Julian Lennon on "White Space", and then somehow they sound like Arcade Fire with personality all over this fucking album at random times. If that doesn't make sense, you haven't listened to this fucking album. It's intensely original in how they can use this much reverb without making it sound like a crutch. But goddamn does this shit make me wanna wear pants held up with a drawstring.

St. Tropez can get into these extremely deep pockets of smooth, and there's just a fucking single maraca and a hollow wooden box calmly broviding percussive support. Serious balls this entire album sounds like running down a bright green meadow in slow motion, it's so fucking delicious.

I want this to touch you. And I will watch it touch you if you're really into that sort of shit bro.