Cleopatrick
FAKE MOON
NOWHERE SPECIAL
Somewhere, in a parallel universe, Elliott Smith is still alive—still black on the inside, still wondering what the point of any of this is. In the universe we inhabit, however, it seems he’s been channeled by Canadian duo Cleopatrick. Because for this second album, Luke Gruntz and Ian Fraser have largely done away with the blues-stomp/desert-rock hybrid of 2021’s debut Bummer in favor of something a lot more mellow and downbeat. Whereas that first record was devoid of nuance, this one is full of it. It’s a collection of deep sighs, of broken hearts, of bad decisions and subsequent regrets, of silent prayers to a god they may not believe in.
Which is to say that FAKE MOON (its title, like the titles of its 10 songs, is rather ironically stylized in capital letters) feels more like a different band than the same—it’s less an evolution or a sharp right turn than an entire reinvention. But when the muse strikes, why not follow it? And so, opener “HEAT DEATH” is Elliott Smith in that parallel universe, albeit with shades of both Eels and Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy” (yes, really) thrown in for good measure. It’s vulnerable, despondent, and oddly sultry, a combination that’s maintained over the next nine songs.
Is it a coincidence that the stunning second track—all plaintive alienation and self-awareness—is called “BAD GUY,” yet sounds a lot less like Eilish’s song than the previous one? Are Cleopatrick just fucking with us? Whatever the answers, it doesn’t really matter. Because by taking a step back from who and what they were previously, Cleopatrick have crafted an album of understated longing. Whether it’s the hypnotic groove of “CHEW,” the quiet defiance of “BIG MACHINE,” or the cracked emotions of the title track, FAKE MOON is an album of pure and profound feeling, the kind that lodges in your veins and your throat and brings back memories you’d forgotten that you’d ever had. Somewhere, Elliott Smith might just be smiling.
