free cake for every creature Delivers Another Sweet Treat

While they likely won’t be headlining annual arts and culture festival Burning Man anytime soon, indie group free cake for every creature infuse the new 10-track gem “talking quietly of anything with you” with a soft immediacy, building on the last of the festival’s ten central principles. Eschewing the broad declarations about the nature of fate and humanity that run eye-rollingly rampant in the lyrics of some other groups in their genre, free cake for every creature stick to imagery that is beautiful in its simplicity and remain in the realm of relatable reality. They speak not of grand boulevards but of the narrow streets of a new city. Their love affairs may not be star-crossed, but the intimacy of scenes like a bowl of soup shared over meditations on youth and change is concretely touching. Whether this earnestness is inspired by personal experience or comes from living vicariously through the motley crew of characters on a show such as “Girls”––on the soundtrack of which these tunes would be at home––the album is as unassuming as it is delightful. The band recorded the album itself in upstate New York, but their previous move to Philadelphia clearly allows them to relate to fellow recent city immigrants struggling to navigate everything from foreign social scenes to befuddling public transit systems.

That the album debuted on youthful label Double Double Whammy Records, known for East Coast lo-fi and edgy-folk bands like the raw-but-lovely Eskimeaux, lends an extra air of do-it-yourself magic to a work that could easily have strayed too far toward pop and alienated a fan base of hipsters who prefer melody to math rock. Listeners who once begged their parents to pay $9.99 to download the “Juno” soundtrack on their first iPod mini will find the album’s lyrics––all of which seem like they should be inscribed sans punctuation––particularly appealing. Reassurances like “all you gotta be when you're 23 is yourself” alternate with evidence of requisite quarter-life crises. In the canon of songs about being 23, free cake for every creature’s musings on turning “a decade plus a baker's dozen” reject Blink-182’s 1999 negativity; Instead, they provide validation for other 20-somethings who “weep for no reason” with their friends and owe no one an apology for wearing “stupid lookin’ shoes” while they “defuse leftover teenage blues.” Recent graduates disinterested with the trappings of the conventional young-professional life of their peers in consulting and finance are reassured that it’s fine to “call yourself an artist! work part-time at whole foods! it's all good.”

Though the album might be not particularly groundbreaking and its sound a bit too precious, it is cohesive and pleasant. The poignant and often poetic character of its lyrics deserve a closer listen from any who are initially turned off their inherent eccentricity. Its melodies rely on a single vocalist’s talent, and its themes focus on the joys of companionship––both platonic and amorous––in periods of exploration and uncertainty. Vignettes of humanity that are simultaneously personal and universal include perfectly captured images like wanderlust-filled adventurers who read books about Malaysia and “get wild on green tea.” The quirkiness evident in the band’s stated preference for putting cheese fries on their pizza and writing poems on the walls of department store dressing rooms is not self-conscious, however. Careful self-reflections have clearly led to encouraging conclusions like the opening track’s assertion: “it took me years to believe! i could be quiet and still uncompromising.”

Blame it on a diet-of-cheap-ramen-induced hunger or the fact that their namesake is a baked good, but free cake for every creature use the creation and consumption of different foods as extended metaphors to effectively capture emotions and experiences. It is a rare band indeed that can inject individuality and meaning into an action as mundane as making muffins despite forgoing a recipe and eating them for dinner even though they look “scary.” To them, “love’s an onion ring––burn my tongue but it tastes sweet! come closer and we'll share this piece”––an unusual but tempting offer.

“talking quietly of anything with you” is a delightful addition to the canon of contemporary softly sunny indie music. The album avoids the oft-used derogatory descriptor “twee” by remaining uplifting but not cloying and embracing a love of bad jokes. Keeping all 10 songs under three minutes to avoid monotony and maintain intrigue, free cake for every creature are fresh and undeniably distinct. The statement “i'm still movin’! i'm not where i wanna be! but i'm open to possibilities” on closing song “still movin’” leaves room for them to continue exploring as they mature––while still saying “cheers” over cans of beans and drawing chubby cows in their journals.

––Staff writer Liza H. McPherson can be reached at liza.mcpherson@thecrimson.com.