How do you pin down a band like Broncho? Since its 2011 debut, the Oklahoma quartet served up cheeky, cocksure albums of indie rock, throughout which frontman Ryan Lindsey aimed to goad us into fighting, fucking, and raising hell. It landed the band spots in HBO’s Girls, a Cartoon Network joint, and even a Fabletics commercial. Though their sound was eclectic and ever-evolving, Broncho always maintained their moxie. But the last we’d gotten of that Broncho attitude (as a full album, anyway) was more than six years ago—and a lot can change in six years, as evidenced on their fifth LP, Natural Pleasure. Broncho’s mellowed out; the band’s memories of life, love, and pain sound woozier, gentler. But even amid Natural Pleasure’s introspective haze, the band’s signature playfulness still remains in clear view.
Throughout Natural Pleasure, the spaciness of Broncho’s garage-rock grit thickens into something rounder, lusher—it’s chiller than ever. The first two songs, “Imagination” and “Funny,” kick off the album with rich guitar and echoing, blissed-out vocals. The album’s overall attitude is more assured; here, Broncho expresses subtler emotions with a breezy poise. “Cool” replaces the glib flirtation of older songs like “Class Historian” with a coy trip-hop horniness, as metallic drums and Mezzanine-esque bass roil beneath Penny Pitchlynn’s breathy crooning. And “You Got Me” is a slow, surprisingly tender ode from Lindsey to his two children, in which he expresses his care with a sense of humor: “Safe drivin’, don’t die.” There’s not much drama in these lyrics: no more Taj Mahals, no femme fatales spilling blood down Harry Hines Boulevard. Instead, the album zeroes in on little vignettes and everyday reflections, with stripped-down lyrics that bring each emotion into focus.
Natural Pleasure isn’t all business, mind you. Broncho’s first proper dance-along anthem, “Get Gone,” marries atmospheric vocals with new wave-y synths and a thumping four-on-the-floor drumbeat. Even on “Original Guilt,” which delves into heavier subject matter, Lindsey’s avowal that “nobody’s evil” is followed up with the goofy statement that “nobody here is totally Knievel.” These songs don’t show Broncho totally forgoing depth; instead, they acknowledge that there’s sincere feeling to be mined, Rorschach-style, from even the most unserious of statements.
This pervading haze is double-edged, though, as the album admittedly gets a little repetitive once the more upbeat tracks give way to a slower second half. It’s a gorgeous listen, but the line between mesmerizing and soporific starts to blur as the songs’ edges melt into one another, kind of like how couchlock can feel amazing until you realize you haven’t gotten up in hours. Here, Broncho’s writing is as evocative as it’s ever been. The textures are just decadent. But the album’s strongest tracks are its most upbeat, which—given Natural Pleasure’s pacing and tone—means the record suffers from an early peak and a drawn-out comedown. Thankfully, the country-tinged lilt of “Dreamin’” adds sharpness to the album’s conclusion, like a soothing wake-up call.
