Brooklyn-based musician Frances Chang’s second album, “Psychedelic Anxiety,” is a metaphysical take on experimental indie pop that’s about navigating the psyche — bringing complex, and oftentimes, clashing emotions to the surface.
It’s a slow burn of an album with diametric contrasts; Chang’s etheral vocal melodies float around kaleidoscopic rhythms while a lurking specter of existential dread hides in the peripheral.
The sonic offerings on this eight track album are diverse; grungy pop, psychedelic-infused indie folk, self-described “slacker prog” as well as ventures in lo-fi experimental improv and sound poetry. And through this tapestry of musical stylings, Chang reinforces the idea to listeners that you never quite know what to expect next.
Released on Feb. 16, Frances Chang (guitar, synths, vocals, programmed drums, voice memo) primarily spearheaded the album via home-recorded tracks. The project was partially engineered by Andrea Schiavelli (Eyes of Love), who also mixed the album.
The rhythm section is composed of Liza Winter (Birthing Hips) on drums and Schiavelli on bass, while other contributions include Michael Sachs (woodwinds on “First I Was Afraid”) and guitarist Nick Llobet on “Rate My Aura.”
As the opening track on Psychedelic Anxiety, “Spiral in Houston ” is unexpected; it’s not a sweeping grandiose opener that’s meant to impress. Chang’s vocals are wispy, but densely layered; paired with an acoustic guitar, electronic drums, and experimental sound textures, building tension to carry across its surreal foreboding narrative. It evokes the feeling of being stuck in an old memory that you try to shut out of your mind.
“What’ve I done?/ In a sagging bed in Houston/ on the highway/ next to a psychic’s house/ lit up in yellow possibility/ I call you … exactly when you’re least mine/ It’s telepathic/ I know just how to find/ all the airy knives.”
Meanwhile, “Eye Land” is an example of Chang’s excellent use of contrast. There’s a dichotomy of loud and soft musicality at play. Quiet introspective moments are shaken back to reality with catchy grunge riffs, and then settle down to become contemplative once again.
This song was written while Chang was on tour; traveling through the Irish and English countryside with a friend, according to her Bandcamp page. It’s a love song that’s pining and nostalgic, complicated by an uncertain relationship.
“I may not see Rose again for a long time/ But I won’t go swimming/ Today I’m bathing in music/ lying around your spare room/ sky is cloudy here in June/ waking up under a sandy moon/ you fall out of your tent/ saying my blindness wrung you out.”
But the memory turns painful and moves with a devastating turn: “I can feel ya here with me, like oily water/ subduing me – I think maybe you’re/ thinking of me too/ It doesn’t feel light …/ It’s ugly, clawing at my gut.”
“Ya A Mirage,” is a song about being interrupted with intrusive thoughts while trying to meditate. With a slacker rock/ grunge pop sound, it’s a window into the subconscious that relies on a stream of consciousness style lyricism.
A departure point on the record is, “Sci Fi Soap Opera”, a sound poem where Chang’s spoken words blend with a dream pop synth wall of sound.
It transports listeners to a dream within a dream; full of ruminations on relationships: “I struggle to fix the problem in you that is really in me/ I confess, I take full responsibility.”
“First I Was Afraid” takes pieces of its melody from the soul classic “I Will Survive,” made famous by Gloria Gaynor. It’s a dark reflection on past childhood trauma manifesting in present day relationships. Chang’s singing is heartbreaking and plaintive while accompanied by a backing chorus of woodwinds.
“Body of the Lightning” takes homemade field recordings of thunder and rain from Schenctady, NY and melds it with feelings of longing amidst expansive layers of wave-like synths.
And on “Rate My Aura,” an impromptu jam of synthesizers, electronic drums and poetry that was recorded on an iPhone voice memo closes out the record. This moment in time was captured during a morning in an empty house to an audience of one — a cat named Grayson — and encapsulates the searching and improvisational nature of Psychedelic Anxiety to find some semblance of peace of mind.
“I’m all for trying as best you can …/ It’s all there is to do/ that and try to find it within yourself/ to wish love upon you and everyone/ and everything there is.”
Throughout her second album, Chang pairs otherworldly sound textures and bedroom pop hooks with surreal lyrical imagery to contrast with mundane everyday moments. There’s a magical realist approach to her songwriting that’s like a funhouse mirror — reflecting reality back through a distorted view to gain new perspectives. Sometimes strange. Sometimes beautiful. But always enlightening.
Written by Chris Goudreau
The Ugly Hug 