Harriet
American Appetite
HARVEST
6/10
Every band is from somewhere, and the successful ones usually bring the air of their respective birthplace along with them—Nirvana and Seattle go together like The Ramones and New York, David Bowie and outer space. After repeated listens to Harriet, the fact that they are from Los Angeles comes of absolutely no surprise. Crafting crisp, sun-dappled new wave/pop delivered in a mid-alto, the band joins the many who can point to The Beach Boys as inspiration. Yet, as with LA itself, there’s a dark side, an insecurity that’s often ignored, or botoxed, or secretly drunk away. Harriet lets that out into the light. American Appetite, their debut, has an initially presumed superficiality that belies its depth, as is evidenced on nearly all of its tracks. Take “Burbank”—ninety-seven percent of the song is just simple guitar and vocals weaving a plaintive tale of love, when, out of nowhere, it devolves, just for a few seconds, into a fiercely grungy coda of screamed lyrics: “I am not like him.” The remaining songs offer similar sonic treasures and a new definition of “sunny SoCal.”
