Atta Boy: Big Heart Manners review – a demoaralising slump

I like to think of Atta Boy as one of indie pop’s greatest legends. I’m exaggerating of course, but that’s the impression I got when I looked at their Spotify page before the release of their new album, Big Heart Manners. Before last month, Atta Boy had released just one, 40-minute album back in 2012. Their bio was empty and their band photo defaulted to a poorly cropped image of the debut album cover. (In fact, for several years, that ominous black-and-white drawing of a man with an anvil for a head stood on a diving board was the only visual representation I had of the band). It seemed some faceless, probably-American group fronted by a youthful female voice had thrown this outstanding and often beautiful album out into the wild and abandoned it for a whole eight years. Yet, astonishingly, in those eight years, the debut album Out of Sorts has produced not just one or two, but four songs surpassing one million plays on Spotify and has accrued a mighty 150,000 monthly listeners despite almost zero promotion. It’s perhaps a thought of consolation to give to those who trash music streaming services as ‘killing the album’ and trampling on emerging artists. Out of Sorts was a hit because it was a brilliant album. There is no other explanation. Surely, that is a miracle that could never have happened before the age of digital streaming.

In January this year I was on the school bus home and reaching the heartbreaking finale of Out of Sorts (the eerie, minimalist piano ballad Readiness Is All) when I stumbled across a thrilling Facebook post. “One week from today we will all be back in the same room for the first time since we finished recording Out of Sorts”. Still no images of this band, but for the first time in years, a sign of life. I giddily hit repeat and waited for summer.

Two months later and Big Heart Manners was born. It turns out the female voice belongs to Eden Brolin, daughter of Thanos, Destroyer of Universes (also known as Hollywood actor Josh Brolin). The band released Out of Sorts on a whim after writing it during their high school senior year. In the following eight years, the band members pursued different careers and different lives on both coasts of the States, with Brolin herself acting in a number of films. A lot, of course, has changed. Brolin is no longer a full-of-life 18-year-old, but 26 and sounding newly weighed down by harsh truths on Big Heart Manners. The band’s sound has taken Route 10 from Santa Monica to Texas, trading beach pop for sweltering southern country. For big Out of Sorts fans like myself, this takes a little getting used to, but I’ve learned to embrace this unfamiliar world of slide guitars, crooning vocals and melancholy. And trust me – there’s plenty of melancholy – with Big Heart Manners sounding like the neglected big sister to Out of Sorts‘ frolicking toddler.

With eight years’ worth of anticipation comes a risk of disappointment, and that was realised without doubt when I listened to the album’s first single, Devoted. The most excitement this tune has to offer is a gently building opening snare drum fill. From there, it’s all downhill. In fact, Devoted could hardly be more limp. Whilst Brolin is an able vocalist, her melodies seem destined to be forgotten. The song can’t seem to give up the same dreary three-chord loop, and even the drummer seems to be falling asleep, judging by the snare that keeps playing as the song ends. Make no mistake, Devoted is worst-song-of-the-year-worthy material. Shade, the second single, was much more listenable. It won’t fill a dancefloor any time soon, but the chorus is catchy, the verse vocals are tightly harmonised, and at least this time there’s some semblance of a groove. Shade feels suitably dark (“just give it time / I’ll lose my own mind if I want to”) and builds into something that really makes an impact. Its not Atta Boy at their Out of Sorts best, but it’s not far off, either.

The rest of the album continues in a similar fashion, usually sitting uncomfortably on the borderline between sleepy and quietly brooding. Lucky has one of the strongest choruses on the album, and has potential to reach a powerful finale. I imagine cymbals and choirs and all the usual sonic fireworks but instead we get a cautious build and nothing more. Atta Boy seems scared of the big finishes, and by conforming to their understated country vibe set out in Big Heart Manners, it feels like they’re missing a trick.

The minimalist, storm-infused Broke also falls flat, with somewhat uncompelling songwriting and Brolin’s apparent difficulty hitting the notes at the upper end of her range. It’s the sort of song that will fly by without you even realising. That said, Corpus provides probably the only danceable tune on the album. I’ll admit I probably have a bias toward more upbeat, driving songs, and Corpus is no exception to the rule. Here Brolin finally starts to bring some real energy for the performance, and the rest of the band seems egged on by her passionate delivery. The tongue-twister chorus (“Don’t change, don’t change, Jane, Jane, don’t change”) is simple enough for a quick singalong (and I’ve had many) but equally strong in melody. A plonking piano is a tantalising reminder of the debut album, in which it featured heavily. In the end, Corpus is easily good enough for Out of Sorts, or any country album for that matter.

For all my complaints about ‘sleepiness’, Night is a song that does sleepy well. Processed, mumbling vocals haunt the track alongside a warm, soothing organ and tasteful brush-work on the drums. The effect is both interesting and affecting, if unexciting. The artful drumming is also at its best on the climax of Halfway, a track which sounds like the end of a long summer day. It’s tired like the rest of the album, but listened to at the right time and in the right mood, Halfway can have an emotional power few other songs possess. Just like on the debut album, Atta Boy close with the most depressing song in their arsenal, which in this case is Madly. Another acoustic guitar-driven ballad, this one sees Brolin at her most vulnerable in admitting her fragility: “I joke but I need you so badly”. Big Heart Manners may not have had many jokes in the first place, but Madly is nonetheless a deeply moving, understated finish.

With more ambition, Atta Boy has the potential to be a really great band, but they’re not quite there yet. Big Heart Manners is an album weighed down by sagging low tempo ballads, none of which seem to truly realise their potential. For those needing some gentle comfort in dark times, Big Heart Manners may be the companion for them, but for me the album is more dull than consoling. And so an indie pop ‘legend’ dies unceremoniously. I can only hope a country pop legend is still to be created, but to be honest that seems unlikely.