French Cassettes
Benzene
TENDER LOVING EMPIRE
Serious artists incessantly struggle with how to delicately disclose their private selves to an audience of mostly strangers. An artist who doesn’t reveal enough of their inner self can drive them further into isolation, while an artist who reveals too much runs the risk of exhibitionism. The sweet spot is to strike a chord with people who value intimacy and eschew exhibitionist performances in favor of actual art exhibits. After spending over 15 years trying to reach that happy medium in their own medium—music—French Cassettes have accomplished that impressive feat with Benzene. Hercules, who represented strength, and Apollo, the god of music, would both be proud.
“Proud” is a word that parents are encouraged to use to support their children on a regular basis in this modern era when open ears and hugs are the cultural norm rather than leather belts and spankings. And the word is finally appropriate for San Francisco’s French Cassettes; having previously released two pleasant full-lengths, the quartet now has the right to declare themselves proud of their third effort. Brothers Scott and Thomas Huerta, Mackenzie Bunch, and Rob Mills are probably the only people who know when they realized they’d become proud of Benzene. But in listening to the final result, one can imagine the band members smirking at each other during the recording, knowing they were onto something special.
For those of you who slept through science class, benzene is a key element found in plastic and synthetic materials. French Cassettes turn the word on its head, invoking a quasi-antonym, and tsk-ing the cheaply and environmentally unsound products partially made from the compound. The name of their short-but-sweet new record may be a head-scratcher for most, but it’ll click almost instantaneously for fans of harmony-based pop (and even Jason Isbell listeners) who spin the black circle. Opener “Fast Held Hand” sets a gentle mood for Benzene, resembling a Shavasana at the start of a yoga session. Like those flexible practitioners, French Cassettes then carefully rise to their feet and gradually engage in a series of poses that unlock their inner selves. “You arе a soft drum in my chest / You fill my lungs, you fit me best,” Huerta sings on “Baseball Bat,” a consummately lovely lyric.
Benzene extends far beyond the realm of power-pop, as they band is often misclassified. Simply put, the record is a case study in what good pop songs are supposed to be about: love, introspection, extroversion, and the radical notion that life might not be so bad after all.
