sandcastles.
die alone
(self-released)
Find It: sndcstls.bandcamp.com (out Oct. 14)
When I first heard sandcastles.’ die alone, I kinda lost it.
You see, despite the vibrant creative force that Columbia’s Bakari Lebby has become over the last few years, he’s never delivered an album that truly lives up to his talent and charisma. Until now.
die alone still leans on the same idiosyncratic influences from previous efforts — earnest emo-punk; Frank Ocean-and-Blood Orange-style downbeat R&B; warm, easygoing electronica in the vein of The Postal Service; atmospheric indie rock a la American Football or Tame Impala. But the new record blends these sounds with the refined songwriting hinted at on last year’s flicker EP, balancing Lebby’s audacious swagger and heart-on-sleeve emotionalism.
What: Listening Party — sandcastles. LP
Where: The Whig, 1200 Main St.
When: Thursday, Oct. 13, 9 p.m.-midnight
Price: Free
More: 803-391-8852, thewhig.org
Collaborating with the now-Atlanta-based electronic duo We Roll Like Madmen, who co-produced all of die alone, as well as singer Colleen Francis and guitarist John Vail, the album has a dynamic ebb and flow. Lebby slides easily from kinetic, hook-driven rock songs like “Crush” and “Sad Sack” to banging, house-influenced numbers like “Black Sheep” and “Carolina, I Love You, But You’re Bringing Me Down.” Lead single “OK, Cupid” creates an R-rated lounge vibe with a slinky neo-soul keyboard line and finger snaps. “Honestly, BB” takes a minimalist approach with a marimba-esque melody. And “Robin” goes into deep 808s and Heartbreak territory with vocoder-filtered angst.
But the lyrics leave the most lasting impression, filled with quotable nuggets of blunt-force millennial angst. I’m partial to the self-conscious “Sad Sack,” where Lebby sings, “At the risk of sounding like a teenager again / I feel like no one understands me.” But it’s the tender closing sentiment of the title track that rings most true. Swirling through grandly romantic synths, Lebby and the music get lost in the phrase “I don’t want to die alone.” It’s a sound — and a feeling — that’s hard not to get swept up in, succumbing to this crushing epiphany.
