Kevin Parker must have really tried. He probably held out his hand, meekly saying “Stop!” as Pond tacked another extra section onto one of its compositions. Pond did not heed him, and in his awkwardness Parker felt dreadfully sorry for himself. He went upstairs to alternate between Adderall and pot, pacing in circles all the while. And Pond continued jamming. And jamming and jamming and jamming.
I imagine this scenario because judging by the content of Man It Feels Like Space Again, the latest album from the Tame Impala offshoot Pond, nobody involved in the process of making this album seems to know how to write a pop song. But Kevin Parker, mastermind of the mighty Tame Impala, sure knows how to write a pop song (look no further than “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” – actually, do look further, because Tame Impala is the shit.)
But the songs on Man It Feels Like Space Again meander, drift and take on extra sections like hitchhikers.  And Parker, as producer, has failed to curb this band’s whims.
Great ideas wander complacently into the distance. As soon as the thrill of hearing them transition into funk, or rock n’ roll or even woozy avant-Beatles sound collage, it dissipates. It’s a bit like Houses of the Holy if Led Zeppelin’s strings were pulled by someone with a less dexterous hand than Jimmy Page and fronted by a far less charismatic creature than Robert Plant.
I’d be intrigued by an individual song if it showed up at a party or on a playlist, perhaps why I enjoyed the opening track “Waiting Around For Grace” so much. But nine in a row make for a tedious experience, especially given that these songs needlessly stretch far longer than they should. It could have had nine songs that didn’t drag. Or 11 songs that didn’t drag. But this thing is impenetrable even in the background of a college living room.
Pond has potential. It has a keen ear for sound, and its grooves are good while they’re interesting – which isn’t for long. But this is a band in need of a brutal producer, not a quiet, nice introvert like Kevin Parker. I worry Pond may suffer from a lack of self-esteem (that album title is terribly self-conscious, if only accurate because this album is every bit as empty and formless as the cosmos.) But this is Pond’s sixth album. It amazes me that these guys haven’t honed their sound by now.