Beach Bunny: Honeymoon review – slick and stylish indie pop in bitesize packages

It would have to take a particularly hotly-anticipated album to bring me back to Undertone, and Beach Bunny’s debut album, Honeymoon, is just that. The first I heard of the album (and indeed Lili Trifilio’s hugely successful project in Beach Bunny) was back in November, when they released the single Dream Boy. The song is a succinct, punchy, singalong belter and quickly became something of an obsession of mine, so much so that it snatched a cheeky third place in my Best of 2019 list. The following singles surprisingly managed to keep up the brilliant standard of satisfying indie rock. Cloud 9? Banger. Promises? Classic. Ms. California? Okay, that one wasn’t so good, but three out of four isn’t bad.

So would Honeymoon’s single power translate into a satisfying full-length album? Well, for starters, it’s barely “full-length”, clocking in at just 25 minutes, with all but two songs not surpassing the three-minute mark. When I discovered this in the small hours of Valentine’s Day (fittingly when the album was released), I must admit I was quite disappointed, but after a week or so of solid listening to Honeymoon, I’ve managed to warm slightly to the shorter song lengths. Unlike some of my other favourite short songs (see Oliver Tree’s Hurt or Still Woozy’s Goodie Bag), Trifilio has a habit of making her sub-three-minute songs sound remarkably complete, and as a result they don’t sound unfulfilling, just concise.

Promises, the longest track of the album (coming in at a comparatively epic 4 minutes), opens the album. This one’s definitely grown on me, and Trifilio does well at lodging a pretty long and wordy chorus firmly into your head, without the need for any gimmicky short hooks. The Beach Bunny signature song structure is firmly established in Promises – namely a standard pop structure but with a fiddly, guitar-focussed breakdown before a heavily embellished and edited final chorus melody, akin to a sonata’s recapitulation. These occasionally rather substantial amendments to the pre-established melody are where Trifilio most excels. Her voice shines as she ventures towards the upper reaches of her range, and soon you’ll find yourself whistling both the original and new melody.

Two clattering snare hits later and we’re served up Cuffing Season, a very satisfying, pristinely-packed indie pop song. This is certainly Trifilio’s songwriting at it’s finest, and the chorus is anthemic as ever. There’s also a bashy little rock outro to boot. April is decidedly sleepier, and would perhaps sound more at home in Beach Bunny’s hugely popular previous EP Prom Queen, which I’m afraid for me isn’t a compliment. It does well to change the mood from the fist-pumping openers and is by no means a bad song, but I’ve never really connected with the meandering nature of the song, as well as a slightly underwhelming climax (not to mention the huge crescendo at the end that disappointingly amounts to nothing).

With Rearview, the tone becomes even more mellow, but this time the result is something far more beautiful. It’s just Lili and her guitar, and the song feels like something of a tribute to her extremely lo-fi – and occasionally brilliant – early solo EPs. The graceful opening broken chords are unfortunately lost in the slightly scratchy guitar playing that takes us through the rest of the song, but this is nonetheless a very pretty, humble and impactful tune. Then comes the first big surprise of the album. The guitar exits and a chugging bass enters. Trifilio’s typically poetic lyrics are abandoned, with shocking effect: “You love me / I love you / You don’t love me anymore / I still do”. It’s a stunning move away from previous lines like “Underneath all apathy / You’re woven into my tapestry”, and it feels as if Trifilio has given up thinking of something elegant, and is instead just trying to process the situation. Are we going to drop into an epic finale?, I found myself wandering as I sat up in bed in the darkness. After April’s disappointing end, this time Beach Bunny answered my prayers. A growing swirl of guitar static just before the drop is the only warning of the oncoming onslaught, and when the full band does enter, they hit you square in between the eyes. Repeated, this time complete with harmonies, Trifilio’s words now sound like triumphant acceptance, and a superbly judged drum fill only adds to the excitement. With such a brilliant finale, Rearview has to go down as one of my favourite tracks of the album.

As previously mentioned, Ms. California doesn’t excite me in quite the same way. The chorus has a striking resemblance to the classic joke song Stacy’s Mom, and as a result I find it difficult to take the track seriously. To add to that the lyrics are pretty weak, based off the tired trope of female jealousy (“California girl, I wish I was her”). The band is back on form for Colorblind, alternating between almost math rock verses and a more driven indie rock chorus. Trifilio’s angular chorus melody is the main highlight here, as well as a successful build into a final chorus.

Like Rearview, Racetrack is another well-placed track that gives an opportunity to catch your breath. The main surprise here is that Trifilio is backed by a keyboard, not a guitar, and the effect is the haunting feel of wind-up toy, complete with an exaggerated ritardando to finish, as if the toy needs winding up again. It’s at this point that I have problems with the track listing. Racetrack lulls us gently to sleep whilst Trifilio muses about how she always “wind[s] up in second place”, but we’re jolted awake again abruptly with the belter that is Dream Boy, followed by Cloud 9. That said, placing these two euphoric singles at the end does give the album a nice jubilant finish, as if Trifilio has reached a happy ending, although quite how she got there is anyone’s guess.

There’s some great songs on Honeymoon, but Dream Boy still just about holds up as the very best. It’s full of energy, changes of pace and brilliant lyrics. Like in the album opener, Promises, Trifilio’s signature melody edits are simply glorious, and a bouncy outro is the perfect sendoff to what is pretty much the perfect indie pop song. 

Dream Boy may be the album’s best song, but the closer, Cloud 9, surely comes a very close second. The genius here is in the chorus structure. Trifilio splits the fairly long chorus in two, hitting hard halfway through (on the word “fade”) to coincide with a dramatic leap in the melody. The result is a melody that surprises you by elevating to a new level of energy halfway through, and giving you a great opportunity to do a well-timed karate kick in the process. It’s thrilling and original, and is an example of Beach Bunny at their very best.

So, a satisfying 25 minutes? Absolutely. Somehow, Beach Bunny’s debut album lived up to my very high expectations, and is an early shoe-in to appear high up on my Album of the Year list, as well as crop up on the Songs of the Year list. The songs are just how I like them – singable, danceable and joyous, and I’ve fallen in love with Trifilio’s powerful yet oftentimes vulnerable vocals. This one will be on repeat for many years to come.