It’s cold in New York, but it’s not the typical cold where a slightly red nose and watery eyes suffice for the chill. It’s the type of cold where even the smallest breaths can feel like sucking in small shards of glass; your muscles feel sore from struggling against the wind; and upon re-entering your home, there’s about two minutes where you still feel numb, followed by the tingling sensation as your blood re-enters parts of your body that froze. The wind is powerful, and the air is dry. Nobody is interested in sharing a second glance at the person with the frostbitten outfit, nevertheless taking their phone out to restart the song that’s probably been playing for the last two minutes. Yet, they were too cold to notice. It’s uncomfortable, and for most of the local townspeople, the most confusing part about it all is how the weather dropped from 50 to 20 in the span of an overnight snow flurry, but then there’s me – somewhat disillusioned from it all.
Regardless of my surroundings, everything is being seen through a looking glass reminiscent of the faded yellow that somehow encompasses what nostalgia would look like as a color. I’ve yet to replace my decade-old earplugs that came with an iPhone whose number I forget, but they’re blasting PACKS’ newest album, Melt the Honey. I am suddenly transported to a time where things don’t feel as complicated, almost a bit euphoric and surreal.
Released on January 19th Melt the Honey acts as the band’s third album. Its lead single, “Honey,” is described by Stereogum as, “a warm and hazy piece of indie rock with some seriously slapdash ’90s style.” It’s the perfect encapsulation of what makes the album stand out. During its first listen, I found myself both enchanted and uncomfortable for how nostalgic it felt, carrying me back to a time long gone.
Much like the experience of first listening to Avril Lavigne, PACKS’ lead singer, Madeline Link, possesses a charm where her vocals subtly lag behind the beat. It’s as if she’s in a drowsy state, struggling to stay awake while laying down tracks. Despite the initial inclination to dislike it, there’s a captivating quality to her style. In a 2021 interview with NME, when asked about her approach, she openly acknowledged that her songwriting is influenced by the experimental lo-fi sound of Micachu and the Shapes. Link explained,
“The way that they make songs is so illogical, and they’re usually pretty short, too. That really inspired me to just focus on the voice interacting with the instruments and letting that journey guide the song.”
I’ve noticed that with a lot of these newer artists, especially in the alternative scene. There’s a certain sense of being intentionally unpolished, like embracing raw authenticity, as a means of letting listeners immerse themselves in the genuine essence of the music. I’ve seen it in artists like Chloe Lilac, Billie Marten, and Ginger Taylor; but when it comes to PACKS and this album, it’s an experience that feels almost like the embodiment of a rebellious and carefree spirit, rather than just a stylistic choice. Opening with the track “89 Days,” Link sings,
“No backups for 89 days
I click on close, but the thought still remains
And as I fall asleep, I wish that I could change
But no backups for 89 days“
While simple in its expression, the lyrics set the tone for what the album truly is. It’s a deep exploration of Link’s ongoing struggle with feelings of love, loneliness, heartbreak, and seasonal melancholy that keep her awake at night. It seems that nowadays, artists are starting to blur the lines between self-discovery and vulnerability. They’re becoming more honest, more genuine, more willing to explore that gray area. Perhaps most notable on a personal favorite track, “Take Care,” where Link candidly admits her tendency for self-neglect while expressing a sincere craving to care for others, singing the words,
“With me, I don’t take care,
But with you, I will, I swear.”
Over the span of thirty minutes, this project fills you with a warmth in its own unique way. It’s both comforting and nostalgic, reminiscent of the feelings that come with growing older and experiencing life. Focusing on the lyrics, you’re filled with emotion; but shifting your focus to the production, you’re enveloped in an almost lazy, atmospheric vibe. You’re given the space to wander into your own thoughts or follow Link as she unfolds her own.
daybreak 