Debut albums can be a terrifying beast to tackle – after all, you only get one chance to make your first full-length record. As such, some bands spend years – decades, even – going out of their way to make the strongest records possible crafting opulent, conceptual epics primed to make musical history. Some bands stick to the bare necessities, focusing on a smaller list of ideas to ensure each one is executed as sharply as possible. And some bands know right off the bat that they’ll be late bloomers, so their debut albums are little more than glorified demos – they’ll save the real good shit when they’ve got an audience lined up.
Bakers Eddy are none of those bands. They’re a bit paradoxical in their process – they’re resoundingly strong songwriters and look at, is about exactly that: love, boredom, and bicycles. It’s not exactly avant garde, but it’s much, much more than something strewn together in a few casual weekends. They prioritise simplicity by searching for a key motif that hits incredibly hard, then framing an entire song around that one idea.
