When Darwin Deez, both the alias of songwriter Darwin Smith and the collective name for Smith and his three-piece band, began releasing music in 2009, the word ‘hipster’ was bandied around a lot. In fairness, Smith was a 25-year-old Brooklynite in thrift store jumpers and skinny jeans, his gangly frame crowned with an almighty Jewfro, making songs in his bedroom on an old tower PC and aping Carl Sagan in his music videos. The word fitted.
Luckily for Smith, the hipster-bashing stopped with the music, a sneakily catchy and surprisingly unselfconscious blend of pop, indie and electro funk that spent more time debating real-life relationship dilemmas than churning out trendy tropes.
Songs For Imaginative People will certainly feel familiar to fans of Darwin’s 2010 debut: the singable hooks, snaking guitar riffs and surly vocal flips remain proudly intact, albeit as part of a noisier, more chaotic stew. Nietzsche-quoting first single ‘Free (The Editorial Me)’ is the band’s grungiest outing yet, evoking the rebellious ‘90s with indignant yelps and effect-laden guitars, before breaking into a harmonious cool-down.
The sickly-sweet ‘You Can’t Be My Girl’ is an undeniable nod to Smith’s obsession with ‘Opposites Attract’-era Paula Abdul, with some freak-out guitar and thunderous chanting thrown in for good measure, while the cosmic funk of ‘Constellations’ returns on the deliciously retro ‘Moonlit’.
If the band’s second album is something of a disorientating ride, it’s anchored by Smith’s consistently thought-provoking lyrics. ‘Good To Lose’ taps into the painfully entitled, self-absorbed and often unproductive life of a first world twentysomething, epitomised with the line, “It’s a career track to the fridge and back”, while on break-up song ‘Alice’, a particularly unguarded Darwin sums up his relationship and his record in one go, proclaiming, “Evacuate my heart because inside it’s chaos.”
At times, the somersaulting sounds on Songs For Imaginative People can be too much to digest, but thankfully, there are enough dynamite one-liners and earwormish hooks here to hold our interest. Smith’s greatest musical gift – his willingness to sound annoying, whiny and narcissistic when the melody calls for it – takes things a step further. By exploiting his own foibles, this risk-taking hipster has made himself relevant.