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Sleigh Bells Recalibrate on the Bouncy Bunky Becky Birthday Boy

After a series of disappointing, overwrought releases, the Brooklyn noise-pop duo’s sixth album is a nimble late-career return to form that enlivens their signature loudness with a renewed sense of spirit.

Sleigh Bells Recalibrate on the Bouncy Bunky Becky Birthday Boy
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When Sleigh Bells broke out in 2010 with their masterful, electrifying debut Treats, it signaled a promising start to their career, especially as it arrived at a fruitful time in the indie scene. The Brooklyn noise-pop duo stood out for their brash production style and exhilarating hooks, cranking up the volume into overdrive, blowing off steam through towering guitar shreds and raucous electronic beats, and counteracting all of that with Alexis Krauss’ delicate, calm-in-the-storm vocals. Songs like “Crown on the Ground,” “Rill Rill,” “Riot Rhythm,” and “Infinity Guitars” were invigorating and surprising, massive but never suffocating, aggressive but never dour. Even 15 years later, Treats still sounds so fresh and effortless, a fertile indie-pop groundwork that other boundary-pushing artists have played off of (and allegedly infringed upon in one particularly notorious case).

But as Sleigh Bells attempted to keep their professional and musical momentum up, their successive outputs left much to be desired. The band’s last few efforts—2013’s Bitter Rivals, 2016’s Jessica Rabbit, 2017’s Kid Kruschev, and 2021’s Texis—lacked the cohesion, compactness, and overall fun of Treats and its underrated follow-up Reign of Terror, simultaneously over-engineered in approach and tedious in execution. Given how their once-singular sound has now become a dominant one with the emergence of hyperpop, recapturing the thrilling heights of their earlier albums seems increasingly less likely. However, their latest work Bunky Becky Birthday Boy proves Krauss and guitarist Derek E. Miller still have some juice left in them and aren’t completely past their prime.

Where their previous records felt strained, scattered, and sluggish, Bunky Becky is a light, tight 11 tracks—a return to form in the sense of being more a clearing of the throat than a major comeback, a relieved exhale more than a breath of fresh air. That’s still a win though, and you can even feel Krauss and Miller are genuinely excited by the music they’re making right now. The endearingly goofy alliterative title speaks to this refreshed, almost carefree attitude, combining the nickname for Krauss’ dog, who passed away in December 2023, with a celebratory reference to the birth of Krauss’s son. Perhaps it’s this personal undercurrent and reconciliation between grief and joy that gives Bunky Becky its compelling emotional thrust and sonic accessibility, in addition to cleaning out the excess that bogged down their prior projects.

That, at least, is felt on “Bunky Pop,” the album’s charmingly silly opener whose oddball lyrics and equally gleefully weird production are just strange enough to worm their way into your brain. Over chaotic, thrashing guitar riffs and rattling drum fills, Krauss chants the album’s name like a pet owner having cuteness aggression over their pet. It’s busy and overwhelming—and even a little jarring on an initial listen—but the song’s exuberant bounce and the alchemy between Krauss’s impassioned, earnest singing and Miller’s zany instrumentation are enough to make you surrender to the power of its kookiness.

While there’s still an occasionally clunky line or two on Bunky Becky (“Arrest me, sad face!,” Krauss yelps on the otherwise catchy “Life Was Real”), Sleigh Bells’s heavy leaning on their punk-rock inclinations lead to several inspired moments, such as album highlights “Roxette Ric” and “Can I Scream.” The former track begins with jittery electronic thumps before launching into a twinkly glam jam about the band’s real-life friend, while the mosh-ready latter track makes excellent use of the band’s ‘80s rock group and metal influences. The album reaches its thrilling peak on “This Summer,” where Krauss laments the passage of time against Miller’s swaggering oscillation between plinky, glitchy synths and rousing, hardcore guitar riffs. “Badly” plays like a lost late-‘90s/early-aughts rager, complete with sing-speak ad-libs. Josie & The Pussycats would be proud.

Considering the album’s subject matter and the broader emotional context surrounding it, Bunky Becky Birthday Boy posits an important existential question both for the band themselves and for their listeners: How does one keep going after experiencing so many intense personal changes? How do you try to make joy sound authentic and cathartic instead of forced and sentimental? Sleigh Bells seem to answer that question rather matter-of-factly, making space both for what brings them joy and letting all their emotions flow out. Aligning those creative channels has resulted in some of the duo’s best work in ages.

Sam Rosenberg is a filmmaker and freelance entertainment writer from Los Angeles with bylines in The Daily Beast, Consequence, AltPress and Metacritic. You can find him on Twitter @samiamrosenberg.

 
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