REVIEW: Panda Bear—Person Pitch (2007)
Glorious 45rpm reissue of Noah Lennox's wildly successful psychedelic opus.
I can’t be the only one who vastly prefers the Panda Bear records over the Animal Collective ones. I enjoyed Merriweather Post Pavillion, but the hype surrounding it was suffocating, and the albums that followed did nothing for me. But the two most recent Panda Bear releases, the wonderful Sonic Boom collaboration Reset, and the new one Sinister Grift, make it clear his mojo is still very much working.
Those two records connect well with the intent on Person Pitch, which got a long overdue reissue in 2023. Cut over 2LPs, at 45rpm, it has never sounded better. Not only that, keeping album like this in print absolutely sticks it to the legion of vinyl speculators that so love to ask hundreds for albums once they get scarce—so thanks, Domino Records.
One thing this record does supremely well is walk the line between psychedelic electronica and sunshine pop. It’s a routinely disorienting trip throughout, often giving extreme lysergic carnival vibes, while also remembering to weave catchy tunes into the cascade of wobbly soundscapes. Politely, Noah’s urge to experiment is often to the detriment of the music, but here he reins it in, finding that happy middle ground. I guess that’s why this one got the reissue, eh?
It kicks off with Comfy In Nautica, a trademark Panda Bear number, if ever there was one, with his voice leading an unnerving choir of his own backing vocals, drenched in reverb like we’re witnessing this in a giant church. Bar some swooshing noises crashing down upon us and the relentless rhythmic clap, it’s more or less a cappella, but the effect is big.
Take Pills transforms what is essentially a simple and sweet acoustic number, and builds the layers, as he likes to do, making you feel like you’re descending into a giant subway system, past a determined busker.
He keeps on probing this kind of approach, with the even more layered Bros like a jaunty 60s pop ditty refracted through a kaleidoscope, before going hard on the acoustic strumming and layer upon layer of echoey underwater vocals creating a whirling vortex of sound that goes on for 12 minutes 30, but feels like four. You can imagine if LSD hadn’t pushed Brian Wilson into a dysfunctional place in 1967, he may well have ended up making music like this.
Further into the album, you end up woozily drifting past songs like I’m Not, before the record starts to really go hard on the weirdness. If the previous 4 songs were the preparation, then Good Girl/Carrots is where the safety is off, and the audio adventure firmly hits the rollercoaster. As another 12 and a half minute opus, it goes through a few ‘acts', one minute relatively measured, the next focused on a hypnotic tabla beat, or a single piano note, or an incessant alarm-like tone that pulses incessantly, unrecognisable vocal phrasing bouncing over the top, then back to pure melody, before a twinkling outro and Search For Delicious to provide the soothing balm to what you’ve been through.
The payback is ultimately the delightful pulsing final track, Ponytail, a gentle guitar lullaby to let us know its all going to be okay. He sure knows how to give us all a big hug after taking us on a trip. The rotter.
