On Pink — "Scarlett"

Hi all.

I have a small problem: my music intake has all but dried up over the past few years. This is, uh… bad news for someone that used to gobble up music by the pound (and wants to do what I’m about to do: write about new music). What’s changed? The culprits — I can identify two — can be easily sussed out. The first relates to what everyone has known to be true forever, but is finally(?) sorta(?) getting formally recognized: as people grow older, they tend to stick with the music they grew up with (specifically whatever it was they were listening to in high school). The second is that going to shows is — and I really hate to say it — mostly a bummer; I just can’t hang with “punk-time” anymore: shows that start a half hour late and — seven (loud) bands later — end hours after my bedtime. 

So yeah, long story short: We all eventually become that which we fear most, becoming an un-fun adults & boring curmudgeons. Get off my lawn!!!

it me.

That said, I do try my best — truly — not to completely shut the door on new music or heading out to a gig, scout’s honor 🤞. Just, if I’m gonna be motivated to schlep all the way to the north shore to see a band, they’d be capital E Excellent…

Cue On Pink, who released their third and best(!) album — Scarlett — last Thursday, November 7th. 

On Pink is a trio of former LaGuardians (I believe?) and current New Paltzians (I think?) from my hometown, Staten Island (maybe? (I should probably source this sorta stuff before I write about it, huh)). Danny Eberle is behind the drum kit, Tom Giuzio is on bass, and pedal-guru Joe Ippolito plays guitar & synth. All three share vocal roles.

Trying to quantify their sound as any one thing is tricky at best, but that’s part of the appeal (if I must: “prog” might be the most appropriate catch-all). 2016’s On Pink is Good — their first album — ranges from the brutal, audio version of a found-footage horror film to boppin’ necro-surf — à la Major Parkinson — and the whole collection is decidedly, if not intentionally, lo-fi. While the vocals sit comfortably over everything else, the tape hiss throughout means there is never a moment of true silence.

On Pink’s second album — 2017’s We Where Wednesdays? — is a bit of a paradox: they somehow managed to embrace their zanier tendencies while simultaneously refining their overall sound (straight outta the Troldhaugen playbook). Radical shifts are still present — such as transitioning out of one song with Beach Boy harmonizes into an all-knobs-up metal zone — but it’s all self-aware. Everything is done with a wink and a smirk and they’ve got the chops to back it up.

In other words: they make certified meme-music. And it’s great.

2019’s Scarlett continues their streak of dichotomies: at once, this album is both a culmination and a departure; the rare inevitable surprise. This — in part — is why it is their best work yet.

Consider, too, the fact that this is On Pink’s first studio outing and their first effort without saxophonist Lucas Kando. At first, Kando’s frenzied sax was conspicuously absent, but after multiple listens the net effect may be one of addition by subtraction. The bedroom aesthetic of their first two albums meant they got a pass on cramming the kitchen sink into a single sonic inch — it was something left to the imagination, it was charm, it was etc.… A proper studio environment this time around means Eberle’s snare has body and depth, Ippolito’s guitar is crisp, and Giuzio’s bass has character like never before. They may be a trio, but each carve up acres of sonic real estate quick — but tastefully. Meaningfully.

Put another way, thanks to Henry Munson’s engineering work and long-time collaborator Rain Johannes’s mix, On Pink has never sounded better.

What about the songs themselves? On Pink’s signature scatterbrain is still on display, perhaps most so on the dizzying, drunken the single Hollow How Low.

While genre hopping and wild dynamic u-turns are still at the heart of On Pink’s songs, these changes are more orthogonal. There’s more context, more set-ups and payoffs. This isn’t to say their transitions have become predictable, but intuitive; it’s easier now to draw a line connecting the dots of their ideas.

My favorite track of the lot — A Lighter — showcases their attention to detail and continuity. The bombastic, chromatic-ish motif introduced at 0:16 gets referenced again at 1:09 and 2:02, but only as subtle hints. Up until this point on the record, the listener is almost trolled into taking everything too seriously — thanks, in part, to Ippolito’s circular pedal-fu circus — but the text-to-speech call-and-response is a reminder that humor is still among their primary goals.

Another area of… growth? maturity? development? whatever?… is on display in Snake Island. There is a lovely section, from 1:43 to 2:05, that could’ve easily been milked for its own song. Instead, On Pink show their restraint, using it only as a brief movement before the song’s outro.

There’s an argument to be made that On Pink save their best for last, a tradition that continues with Scarlett’s 16-minute opus An Improv, Yes. The grand finale is both their longest and grooviest track to date, beginning and ending with a brand of cacophony that’d make Spiritualized smile. As the track paves it’s way forward, I can’t help but picture the folk hero John Henry — in place of rail lines for coal-powered locomotives, though, he’s forging a path for bullet trains in a neon lit Neo-Tokyo and he’s got steam coming out of his ears. Whizzing doppler-shifts and whistling warning bells are aplenty before the track settles into its most consistent idea at 5:11, some ring-mod’d madness. After that, Ippolito first channels Ed O’Brien, then Jonny Greenwood, before Eberle teases new polyrhythmic avenues — the sorta scheme Dawn of Midi wrote an album around — but ultimately abandons them.

For all the pyrotechnic riffs and sharp, dramatic twists their songs can take, what I think I like most about On Pink is their respect for timbre & texture. This esteem is shown from the first tape whir at the top of track 1 to the final, terse bird song that ends the improv — and the album. Their songs can be dissonant and noisy, sure, but that noise is never weaponized or used to punish; it’s used for contrast. Everything is Red and I Will Come Home When the Sun is Down and the Moon is Out are far more than instrumental fillers; they’re crucial to the whole, moments of cinematic respite. Part of the fun of this band, at least for me, is in trying to find out where the song writing ends and the pure exploration of sound begins.

— — —

I don’t know where On Pink would land on a scale of zero to Wu-Tang’s Shaolin when it comes to hometown identity or pride (I’m afraid to ask was Snake Island refers to, but I have a, uh, hunch…), but whatever the case my be, they are — unquestionably — my favorite “local” band. Scarlett has only solidified that position.

They’re also a total tour de force live that can only be seen to be believed (not unlike ~ I assume ~ recent rising stars black midi). I was raised on Zeppelin-esque face-meltings, and in that regard, On Pink always delivers. The last time I saw them — at Persei’s EP release show, Amendment 18 — was a treat. I’ve been lucky enough to play a show with them, too, with Paraiso & Gallons of Pork in the lineup — perhaps the best bill I’ve ever been on. This is all to say, I don’t care if it’s a school night at 11:37 PM the next time they play a set on Staten Island — I’m not missing it for anything. For an old man that yells at the clouds, that should tell ya something.

I’d recommend Scarlett to anyone that wants to hear chaotic joy. That’s how I described On Pink in recommendations before this album and ironically, it still applies — now more than ever, actually. When I began writing this piece, I lamented the fact that I don’t really expose myself to too much new and original music. I though this might’ve disqualified me from having something substantial to say about this band and their album (and, like, maybe that’s still totally valid). But after writing all of this, I’m not sure I care about that any more.

I mean, if I’ve got On Pink, what else do I even need?

— ♭rian♭uchanan57