Review Summary: i wish this album were better
I could talk about Oso Oso’s 2019 masterpiece
Basking in the Glow for a very, very long time. However, as this is not a review for that record, I’ll just say the following: if you haven’t walked outside on a sunny day with
Basking in the Glow sparkling in your headphones, you’re missing out (
on life). Either way, you can imagine my excitement when the semi-one man band surrounding Jade Lilitri surprise released
Sore Thumb the other day: surely, more summery goodness was about to grace my week/month/year. However, while opening cuts ‘computer exploder’ and ‘nothing to do’ sounded
nice, they didn’t quite make me feel all
warm and fuzzy.. was Oso Oso about to disappoint, for the very first time in their career?
Not quite. Sadly,
Sore Thumb shouldn’t sound the way it does. This final version of the album was tracked in early 2021 by Lilitri and his cousin Tavish Maloney, with plans to further flesh out the songs and record them more properly that summer. Before that could happen, Maloney tragically passed away at the age of 24, leaving behind
Sore Thumb: a collection of demos; an album; a raw look into the minds of two excellent songwriters: whatever you want to call it. As such, the songs aren’t quite as sharp or well-rounded as on previous Oso Oso albums, making the record one that thrives off moments rather than songs. One such moment comes in the form of ‘father tracy’s chorus: a quintessential Oso Oso vocal melody glides over crunchy guitars, fully capable of sending shivers down my spine as it cashes in on the typically nostalgic vibes of the band’s past work. Moreover, it showcases a return to Lilitri’s character-based songwriting habits of 2017’s
The Yunahon Mixtape (which is an album, not a mixtape, duh), as the song tells the bizarre story of a drunken pastor. “
Father Tracy / That man loves his work / They said he’s out of his bird”. Try and get that line out of your head, I dare you.
Other excellent moments can be found on the low-key sparkly goodness of ‘describe you’ and closing cut ‘carousel’ featuring magical vocal performances by both Lilitri and Maloney. Yet, one of
Sore Thumb’s main strengths can be found in its very weaknesses. Approaching the album as a collection of semi-unfinished tracks does it a world of favours; it transforms the project into a colouring book of sorts. It’s not hard to imagine how the verses of ‘sunnyside’ would have been produced to shimmering perfection had Mike Sapone not solely been involved with the mixing; it’s fun to consider how ‘give a fork’s melodies might have come to fruition in an alternate timeline. Most intriguing, however, is the inclusion of the track ‘nothing says love like hydration’. Written as a gift of sorts for Lilitri’s father after he helped the musician through a hangover, it’s uncharacteristically goofy. Its simplistic power pop chords making way for a shouted chorus of “
Nothing says love like a Gatorade / Nothing says love like hydration” isn’t particularly
good, but its backstory is loveable, its inclusion heartbreaking. It’s a painful window into the existence of
Sore Thumb, and while I wish it could have been cut during the later recording sessions that never happened, the record that arrived on streaming platforms could not have done without it.
Perhaps that’s the most painful thing about
Sore Thumb. Where
Basking in the Glow was a personal record about finding light in desperation, this album carries the weight of having been created mere moments before all that newfound bliss would be annihilated. It’s a time capsule that is as precious as it is bleak. I wish
Sore Thumb didn’t have to be the album it turned out to be. RIP Tavish Maloney.
